Aurora's Fire
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Years after a virus wipes out most of the world's population, a young boy and girl find friendship in the walled town of Alexandria. A close friendship develops, but as the years pass on, will they be able to come to terms with their feelings with one another, before the dangerous world threatens to destroy everything they've ever known?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Aurora's Fire

Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon was halfway up the watch tower when he heard the snap of a tree branch from down below. He startled but didn't flinch and only gripped the rungs tighter. He looked down to see a freckled red head with blue eyes staring up at him. He sighed heavily and frowned.

"Whaddya want?"

"Daryl Dixon, you know you're not supposed to be climbing the watch tower! Your brother'll have your hide!"

"Don't care what he thinks," Daryl snorted. "He ain't the boss of me."

"Technically, he is. He's eighteen, and he's your guardian, so…"

"So? He still ain't the boss of me." He turned back to the ladder, tip of his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, and he continued to climb, while eight-year-old Carol Mason watched from below. He knew what would happen next, and he smirked when he heard the creak down below, as Carol began to climb. "Careful. Best not fall."

"I won't fall."

"Well, if you do, it's yer own fault, and I ain't gonna feel a bit sorry for you." Daryl pulled himself up into the empty watch tower, long ago abandoned for newer, better-equipped towers. Daryl spent a lot of time there, reading and watching and longing for the day he was old enough to not have to be under his older brother's thumb.

He heard Carol grunt as she struggled up those last few rungs, and he sighed, extending his arm out and waiting for her to grip it. When she did, he helped pull her up, and she huffed, red-faced as he helped her in, and they collapsed side by side on the floor.

"You stink at trackin', you know that?" Daryl grumbled.

"I wasn't tracking you," she pointed out, folding her arms. "And one day, Daryl Dixon, you'll be glad I followed you. You're always getting into some kind of trouble, and you're gonna need help one of these days."

"Don't need no help. Do just fine on my own. 'Sides, you're just a girl."

"You're just a boy," she shot back. Daryl glared at her for a minute before sitting up and moving to the window. Carol followed and knelt by the window with him. They were silent then, looking out at the orange and pink sky as the sun began to set in the valley.

"Almost looks like a, whaddya call em? Aurora," Daryl said slowly, squinting into the sunlight. If there was one thing Daryl was fascinated by, it was by the collection of old school books in the town library, printed years before he was born, years before the world was overtaken by the dead.

"I don't think that's what that is," Carol pointed out. "Not like the one that happens in the desert."

"That's why I said _almost_ ," he shot back. Carol sighed then, and she was still for a moment. Daryl finally opened his mouth again, and his shoulders slumped. "He's leavin' tomorrow."

"I know," she murmured. "Daddy told me. But they'll be together. My daddy won't let anything happen to your brother. You'll see. And…and if something does happen? If the monsters get him? Well, you've got me."

"What about you?" he huffed, fighting off the hot feeling in his cheeks and the sting of tears in his eyes at the prospect of never seeing his jerk-face brother ever again. He might have been a jerk-face, but he was still Merle. And Merle was all he had.

"I'm your friend, Daryl. I'll protect you."

"Pfft. Don't need no girl to take care'a me," he muttered. But he didn't shrug her hand off, when she put it over his. "You should go back. Your mama will be lookin' for you."

"I'll leave when you leave." Daryl sighed heavily and glared at her again, but there was no use in arguing with her. She was about as stubborn as he was, and you couldn't tell that girl anything.

"Let's just stay a little while," he finally said with a nod. "Alright?"

"Alright," she replied. She reached into the little pack she constantly carried over her shoulder. "You eat today?"

"Sure," he replied grimly.

"You're lying."

"So?"

"Here." She shoved a cloth at him, and he opened it up to see two cookies inside.

"Well, what about you?" he asked.

"Mama made more. I can have one later." Daryl looked down at the cookies in his hand and then back up at Carol. With a sigh, he handed her one.

"We'll share." Her face lit up, and she smiled, accepting the cookie from him. "Ain't so hungry, anyway." She knew he was lying, but she wouldn't dare call him out on it. Not when she'd finally got him to start talking to her. Daryl Dixon had been the boy that her mother had warned her about. He didn't have friends. He didn't talk to anyone but Merle. Until she came along, anyway.

Instead, she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He groaned, brushing his hand over the spot her lips had touched.

"Gross," he mumbled. She blushed and took a big bite of cookie, and then they both turned their gazes back to the window and watched the sun continue to set as the valley became shadowed in darkness.

...

TWELVE YEARS LATER

"Dixon! Hey! Dixon!" Daryl shot up with a start, throwing off the blanket as he rolled over the creaky floorboards of the old watch tower. He grunted, rubbing his eyes in the morning light and sticking his head out the door to see Rick Grimes, the young man training with the sheriff, Hershel Greene.

"Whaddya want?" Daryl shot down, wincing as the sun glinted off of Rick's pistol and right into his eyes.

"You remember what today is, right?"

"Fuck if I remember what my last name is most days," Daryl grumbled, grabbing his crossbow and pack before starting down the rickety old ladder. When his feet were firmly planted on the ground, Rick gave him a punch in the shoulder.

"Huntin' season."

"'Course I remember," Daryl lied.

"C'mon, brother. What's gotten into you? You're usually up before the rest of the town when hunting season starts."

"Nothin'. Just tired is all."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with you pining over Carol Mason would it?"

"Would ya shut up with that talk? She's my friend. That's it. We're friends."

"Friends who spend more time together than I spend with my damned wife," Rick pointed out. "And we got two kids. If you two ain't a thing, then I'll eat my shiny new sheriff's badge."

"Hope you got an iron stomach," Daryl smirked, punching him right back in the shoulder before shrugging his pack on and checking the string on his bow.

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that if you two ain't a thing, maybe you best get around to doin' somethin' about that."

"What makes you think I should?"

"She's crazy about you."

"She say somethin' to you?" Daryl asked, stomach twisting into knots.

"No, but it's pretty obvious to everybody that isn't named Daryl Dixon," Rick pointed out. "And you're crazy about her. C'mon, I've seen the way you look at her. But it ain't just you lookin' at her."

"The fuck you talkin' about?"

"Saw Tobin gawking at her day before yesterday. And that Ed Peletier."

"Peletier's a simple sumbitch. She ain't goin' for nobody like that."

"Anybody ever tell you that you don't talk like anybody else around here?" Rick asked with a smirk.

"You do. Every goddamned day." Rick laughed then, shaking his head. "Can't help it. S'way my daddy and Merle talked. Guess it kinda stuck. Why? You think Carol don't like it?"

"I think Carol likes _everything_ about you." Rick cleared his throat. "Speaking of." He nodded toward Carol's house which she shared with some of the other girls in town. She came walking out, short, reddish-brown hair sparkling in the sunlight. Daryl felt his pulse speed up just at the sight of her, and Rick snorted. "Nope, you ain't got a thing for her at all. No, sir."

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, slinging his crossbow over his back. Carol smiled at Daryl, giving him a little wave as she walked over with her pack slung over one shoulder, a sentry knife with a knuckle guard slipped into her belt and a crossbow of her own in one hand. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of her.

"You ready?"

"Ready for what?" Daryl asked dumbly, mouth open slightly as Rick snickered beside him.

"You're taking me hunting," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm doin' what now?"

"What? You thought all those lessons were for nothing?" she asked. "I'm going with you."

"You talked to the council about that?"

"Daryl Dixon, we aren't children anymore, and I don't need a council telling me what I can and can't do outside of those walls. Now are you coming with me, or am I going to have to go out there all by myself?"

"Fuck," he grumbled. "You're gonna get us both killed."

"If I do, it'll be all your fault, because you're the one that taught me, remember? You're the one who taught me to track, to fight, to kill walkers, to hunt. I'm ready, and I want to go with you." She stood strong in front of him and slung her crossbow over her shoulder, mirroring his position.

"Thought you wanted to work with the kids? Teach the kids survival skills and all that?"

"I'm not saying I don't. But _today_ , I want to hunt. That ok with you?" she asked. For a moment, he could have sworn she batted her eyes at him, and he felt a tightening in his groin.

"Fine. You can come with me. But you best not slow me down." He eyed her then, and she just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I'll be waiting at the gate." She took off, and Rick shook his head.

"What?" Daryl grumbled.

"If you don't make a move, I ain't gonna feel a bit sorry for you when one of those other assholes in town sweeps her off her feet. She's a catch, Dixon, and she ain't gonna wait for you forever." Rick patted his friend's shoulder and then headed off to find Hershel. Daryl cleared his throat and adjusted his crossbow over his shoulder before turning to meet Carol at the gate.

He wanted to shrug off everything that Rick had told him, but as he was walking, he noticed Tobin Murphy giving Carol a wave and a smile. He stopped her, said something that made her laugh, and then he was on her way, but not before brushing his hand over her shoulder. Daryl's gaze narrowed in on that gesture, and he felt his neck and chest grow hot.

"Hey, Dixon," Tobin said with a friendly smile as he passed by. Daryl said nothing, only nodded, and he moved to stand next to Carol while they waited for the gates to be opened.

"What was that all about?" he grumbled.

"What was what?" she asked.

"Tobin put his hands on you."

"He touched my shoulder," she laughed. "Why? You jealous, Pookie?" She nudged his shoulder, and she expected him to scoff or tell her to stop like he usually did when she teased him, but he said nothing. She sobered and swallowed hard, noting the change in Daryl's demeanor. Suddenly, she wasn't too certain if going out there with him was such a good idea.

"M'sorry for sayin' you'd get us killed. Was just jokin'."

"I know," she said slowly, eyeing him uncertainly. "Daryl, is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine," he said quietly, chewing his bottom lip, waving at the gate-watchers to open the gates. The snipers in the watch tower fired several silenced shots before the gates opened, and Carol took a deep breath in. "You ready for this?"

"I've had a good teacher," she said with a confident nod, nudging his shoulder. "Come on. Let's go."

 _Author's Note: Thoughts? Is it worth continuing? Please let me know your thoughts. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Wow! I want to thank each and every one of you for the feedback on Chapter 1! I was not expecting the reaction that I got. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy Chapter 2. I got some requests for more glimpses of Carol and Daryl growing up, so this will have that. I also included a bit of background info on Alexandria, so I apologize if it gets a bit wordy in this chapter. Thank you so much, again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

Chapter 2

 _"I know you're there. You still can't track for shit_."

 _"Daryl Dixon, you and that mouth." Thirteen-year-old Carol spouted off, stepping out from behind a tree. She slipped and began to fall, but Daryl reached out and caught her._

 _"Least I ain't clumsy," he teased, helping her catch her balance. She made a face at him, and he brushed her hair out of her face._

 _"So," she said quietly, "there's…a thing tonight."_

 _"What thing?" he asked._

 _"Well, it's kind of a party. Kind of a dance," she pointed out. "Michonne told me about it. They're having it by the South wall, and I was thinking about going."_

 _"Why would ya wanna do that?" Daryl asked._

 _"Well, it sounds like fun. And I've been working overtime at the clinic brewing herbs for the flu patients, and I finally have a night off."_

 _"Can think of a lot more fun than some dumb dance." He started climbing up the tower ladder, oblivious to the fallen look on Carol's face._

 _"Yeah, you're right," she said, climbing up behind him. He reached down, like always, to help her up, but she swatted his hand away._

 _"I can take care of myself, Daryl," she insisted, pulling herself up into the tower. She smiled with a winner's pride as she dangled her legs out of the door._

 _"You wanna throw stones, see how far we can toss 'em over the wall?" Daryl offered. Carol made a face and shook her head._

 _"Would you read to me?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"I know you've got a book in there. Come on. Read something to me." Daryl eyed her as she brushed her auburn brown hair over her shoulder and pulled her legs into the tower, settling back against the wall._

 _With a sigh, Daryl fished through his pack, pulling out a book, marked about halfway through with a slip of something yellow. Carol eyed it, and she narrowed her eyes._

 _"Is that…that looks like one of the ribbons I used to wear in my hair."_

 _"Ain't nothin'," he grumbled, rumpling it in his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. "Just somethin' I found is all." She thought about arguing with him but decided against it, instead settling next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as he peered down at the book. "M'readin' 'Treasure Island.'"_

 _"Oh, I like this one. Mama used to read it to me when I was little," Carol said with a contented smile._

 _"You want me to start from the beginnin'?"_

 _"No," she said with a little shrug, closing her eyes and snuggling close to him. "I can remember most of it. Just start reading, and I'll catch up." Daryl paused for a moment, getting a faint whiff of her hair as the breeze whipped past him. He shivered. "Daryl?"_

 _"Hmm?"_

 _"You going to read?"_

 _"Yeah. Just…tryin' to remember where I left off." He cleared his throat and began to read, and she relaxed against his shoulder, and he read to her long into the night, finishing long after the party was over, long after she'd fallen asleep, and he pulled a blanket over them both, letting the sound of the owls and crickets deep in the woods sing him to sleep._

 _..._

 _Present Day_

 _"So?"_

 _"So what?" Carol asked, stuffing a couple of bottles of water in her pack, situating them next to her extra bolts and a half a loaf of bread._

 _"So you're going to be out there with Daryl. Just the two of you for a couple nights?" Michonne shifted a fussy Andre in her arms._

 _"Oh, don't start that again," Carol groaned, moving to grab a light sweater. She quickly folded it and stuffed it in her pack. "We're just friends."_

 _"You talk about him all the time. You smile when you do." As if on cue, a smile spread across Carol's face. "Like that!"_

 _"Oh, stop," Carol groaned, rolling her eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."_

 _"Oh, ok. I don't know what I'm talking about." A beat. "So, are you going to take Ed Peletier up on his dinner invitation?"_

 _"Ed? No! Of course not."_

 _"What about Tobin? He's pretty sweet on you."_

 _"Tobin's a nice guy, but he's not my type."_

 _"Abraham. Imagine the cute little redheaded babies you two would have running around." Carol made a face. "You're awfully picky."_

 _"I'm not picky."_

 _"Nope. You just want Daryl."_

 _"I think we're done here," Carol laughed._

 _"Here." Michonne moved into the bathroom that the two women shared. It joined their rooms together. She came back out with a small pouch._

 _"What's this?" Carol asked, as Michonne dropped it in her hands._

 _"You know what it is," the woman replied, placing Andre down so he could walk around. "Brew them and drink them within an hour of sex, and you probably won't get pregnant."_

 _"Oh, God. Michonne!" Carol hissed._

 _"What? Rosita gave them to me at the clinic. She said they work wonders."_

 _"I'm leaving now."_

 _"Have fun."_

 _"Oh, shut up." Carol blushed and shook her head, as Michonne gave her a quick hug._

 _"Be safe out there, alright?"_

 _"I'll come back in one piece. I promise," Carol said softly. "Bye Andre. Take care of your mama, ok?" Andre grinned, as Carol gave him a pat on the head. She gave her friend one last quick hug before hurrying out the door to meet Daryl for their first official hunting season trip._

 _..._

"So you ain't decided yet," Daryl said quietly, as they walked down the cracked pavement, littered with leaves and old garbage blown over from who-knows-where by the winds. Carol glanced at him briefly, shrugging her crossbow further up her shoulder.

"I don't have to decide yet. I have another year. You have, what, a year and a half? Of course, I know what you're choosing." Daryl smirked at her. "You're a hunter by nature. A scavenger."

"That what you want to be?"

"It's not my nature," she said with a shake of her head. "My mother was convinced that I was born to be a mother and a teacher. To give birth to the new generation and to teach them our ways." She made a face.

"You'd be a good mother," Daryl said quietly. Carol smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe. But, who says I want to be confined behind those walls?" She gestured vaguely behind herself, toward Alexandria. "My mother was happy doing it, but it doesn't mean I would be."

"Yeah, you were always followin' after me, lookin' for an adventure." He cleared his throat. "You could still be a mother and go outside the walls. It ain't unheard of."

"Be realistic," Carol muttered with a roll of her eyes. "You know what happens when the babies come. The mothers stay close to home. They nurse them. They take care of the house. Not that that's not important. It is. But for me? That can't be all there is. I…"

"What about Michonne?" Daryl offered. "She's got Andre. She goes out and comes back, and things are alright."

"Michonne struggles," Carol said quietly. "She has a rough time. She goes outside the walls, she scouts for herds. But she has to leave her son, and it's hard on her. With Mike dead, she's on her own. She's lucky that she has plenty of people willing to babysit. For me? I feel like there's so much more out there that I could do."

"So what do you want?"

"I want to help. I want to make the world safer for our people." She looked skyward. "I want to create a world where children don't have to be afraid of what's outside of these walls."

"That ain't possible," Daryl muttered. "Even if we kill every goddamned walker on the planet, it'll never go away. Somebody'd just die in their sleep and turn. That's the way it is."

"That's the way it is," Carol echoed. "And maybe someday, there'll be a cure."

"You're a dreamer. S'what you are," Daryl smirked. "Nothin' wrong with that, but…"

"But it's unrealistic. I know," Carol murmured. "I just…before my mom died, she looked at me and she said 'Carol Ann, you have to make your mark on this world, because someday, someone will look to you. Someone will need you to lead them. And you need to be ready. You lead. You make a change. Because without change, Alexandria will fall. It'll all be for nothing."

A small group of people built the Alexandria Safe Zone more than thirty years ago, shortly after the outbreak, and over time, it had become a thriving community with a city council, a law enforcement system, a school, a library and even a farm filled with livestock and four acres of wheat and several small gardens filled with growing vegetables. There were farmers to care for the animals and the crops. There were butchers. There were hunters to go out for other meats such as deer and wild boar. There were teachers to educate the children, though most of them were older, and future teachers shadowed the elders carefully, learning as much as they could so that they would be able to impart wisdom when the time came for them to begin working as a vital part of the community.

Part of educating the children of Alexandria consisted of training them in aspects of every possible job they may choose as adults. All Alexandria children trained in first aid, in using herbs for healing, in planting and harvesting crops, in caring for animals. They trained to build, trained to hunt, trained to shoot and trained to guard the wall against threats. It kept them busy, kept them from getting into too much mischief, though, in Daryl's case, he'd always found a way. Children were not allowed outside the walls of Alexandria. Protecting the children was the top priority. And part of protecting the children meant instilling basic survival skills in them. Alexandrian children were far from helpless, though they were still prohibited from leaving the gates.

Back when Daryl and Carol were children, there had been fifteen, maybe twenty children. Now there were nearly a hundred. Children were growing into adults, having families of their own.

When an Alexandrian turned eighteen, going outside the walls became a privilege. Some would leave just to experience it, just to say they'd been there and survived it. Some came back, some didn't, but it was just the way it was.

By the age of twenty-one, Alexandrians were expected to have made a choice. Would they become teachers or hunters? Would they become builders and help expand Alexandria? Would they become doctors and help heal the sick? Maybe they would be farmers and tend to the land and the animals. Perhaps they would be historians, working closely with the elders to keep accurate records of life in Alexandria after the turn. If they were lucky, they got vague stories of what life was like before, though most of that information was stored in the old school textbooks in the library. It was important to keep hold of what the world used to be. That was something that Carol's father had told her from an important age. The world used to be beautiful. It was never perfect, but it used to be something else. Something better.

Every person in Alexandria had a job to do, and everyone had the right to choose what job they wanted. For Daryl, it had never been a question. He was a hunter by blood. His father had provided many meals during the first difficult years in Alexandria. Along with Carol's father, another expert huntsman, Daryl's father had been training Merle. When Daryl was just six, his father had been bitten while on a run, and Mr. Mason had taken over training Merle, and Merle had taken over raising Daryl, and things had been rough, but they'd gotten through it.

And then, one terrible night, a herd had descended upon the gates of Alexandria, and Merle and Mr. Mason had been caught up in it on their way home from a run. They'd been killed, forever changing both Carol and Daryl's lives forever.

Daryl's mama had died giving birth to him, so he'd had nobody, and Hershel Greene's wife had taken him under her wing. But, he'd never really embraced being mothered by anyone else. He'd spent a lot of time alone, and he'd tried to distance himself from everyone and everything, until that little redhead with freckles had followed him around so long they'd just become friends by default.

"You think Alexandria won't last?" Daryl asked, scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt.

"Do you remember that year when we were kids? We had an awful storm, flooded all the crops, and we had to send all the farmers out with the hunters to bring in extra meat for the smokehouse. We had twelve people die that winter. We just…we can't have that happen again."

"So what're you suggestin'?"

"I don't know," Carol admitted. "We need… _more._ We need something. Maybe if there was another place."

"You thinkin' about the other cities? We ain't never seen 'em. No proof they even exist. And even if they did, they ain't us." Carol nodded slowly.

"I know," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "So."

"So what?"

"You're going to be a hunter. You _are_ a hunter." Carol laughed softly. "You know more about tracking and trapping than any of them, and you've been doing it the least amount of time. But what else?"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Oh, what about those girls I've seen giving you the eye?" She gave him a poke in the ribs.

"What girls?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Trust me. You've got quite the group of admirers."

"You got your own fan club, yourself."

"A what?" Carol choked out.

"You got Tobin. You got Ed."

"Ed? Oh, God," Carol snorted.

"Abraham. Tyreese."

"Daryl," Carol laughed, "they're friends."

"Just 'cause they're friends don't mean they ain't got eyes." Carol's eyes widened in that moment, and she watched Daryl's face turn bright red. "I mean…they look at ya when you're walkin' away. They…they shouldn't be lookin' at ya like that, s'all." Carol smiled then, watching the way Daryl fidgeted nervously. Ed Peletier hadn't been Daryl's favorite person. Ever.

When they were seventeen, Ed had said something rude to Carol as she'd walked by, and Daryl had heard, and it had set him off. Ed had had a black eye for two weeks, and Daryl had been locked up until Hershel Greene felt he'd been punished sufficiently.

"I'm not interested," she said quietly. "If I'm going to build a life with someone, it's going to be with someone that I trust. Someone I know. Someone I _love_." She paused. "And maybe we can change the world. And then? Maybe someday I'll be a mom, and I can tell my kid about how there used to be walls, how there used to be monsters." Daryl had stopped, eyeing her briefly. He listened her talk. He could listen to her talk for hours, just as she could listen to him reading aloud, reading about adventures long ago, adventures they could only being to dream about. "So if I ever do end up with someone, he'll have to be pretty damned special." She smiled then, a smile that sent a rush of warmth through his chest.

This was it. This was the chance that Rick was talking about. This was his moment to make a move if he was ever going to. She'd been Carol. Just Carol. Just Carol his beautiful friend, his best friend, the person he confided everything in and who, in turn, told him everything about herself. He'd never wanted any of the other girls. Never even though about them in that way. Caro had been his constant, the one person he _wanted_ to talk to after a long day, the person he looked for after being gone for a few days, out there, hunting. He always sought her out first when he came back through those gates. Always. And he'd thought of her, and he hadn't been proud of it, but he hadn't been able to help himself. And now here she was, and he wasn't certain what she was thinking, but if any time was the right time, the opportunity was about to pass him by.

"Daryl! Behind you!" Carol's reflexes had her reaching for her bow, aiming it and shooting a plump rabbit several feet away. Daryl spun quickly as Carol brushed past him to collect her kill. "I can't believe you didn't get that one."

"Nice shot," he choked out, opening his pack so she could toss the creature inside after retrieving her bolt. She wiped it on the dewy grass put it back in her bow.

"Thank you," she said with a proud smile. "I don't think it's going to work for the smokehouse though." She saw the strange way he was looking at her, as if he was trying to come up with the nerve to tell her something. She cocked her head to the side. "Daryl? You ok?"

"M'good," he said quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Let's just keep goin'. Wanna find shelter 'fore nightfall. Built a fire. That rabbit'll feed us good tonight." He cleared his throat and started on ahead, and Carol sighed softly, watching him walk away, shaking her head as she silently scolded herself for continuing to widen this awkward gap that seemed to constantly be between them these days. Something was going to have to change, and she was determined that she was going to fix whatever was wrong between them before this hunting trip was over.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Author's Note: Once again, I want to say thank you so much to everybody for reading and reviewing! I'm so blown away by the response to this one! I hope you guys continue to enjoy it, and I hope you will continue to join me on this new adventure. Thanks so much!_

 _Daryl stared at Carol as she clung to her mother, holding onto her tightly as she sobbed against her chest. He felt a pat here, a pat there against his shoulder as the group around the gate began to thin out. The smell of death clung to the air as the snipers on the wall finished picking off the last of the herd outside._

 _"Come on." The strained voice of the older man standing next to him startled him. He looked up at Hershel Greene. The man's mouth was drawn in a grim line, eyes highlighted by wrinkles. He looked older than his years, strained. His wife, a kind woman, heavily pregnant, knelt down at Daryl's level. Her name, Daryl remembered, was Annette._

 _"I'm so sorry about your brother, Daryl," she said gently. "I know you must be scared. You must be confused."_

 _"I ain't confused." His throat was dry, and the words burned his lips as he spoke them. He coughed, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's dead." The woman looked up at her husband, who gave her a little nod; an encouraging nod._

 _"Let's take you home, hmm? I have supper cooking on the stove."_

 _"M'fine," Daryl murmured._

 _"Daryl," Hershel spoke up, "stay with us tonight. We'll make up the spare room. Maggie wouldn't mind the company, I'm sure." Daryl turned to look at Carol, who was no longer sobbing but was still clinging to her mother._

 _He stepped toward her, and Carol's mother sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Daryl reached out, touching Carol's hand, and she opened her eyes and tore away from her mother. She wrapped her arms around her friend's neck._

 _"I'm sorry," Carol cried. "I said he'd protect him. Now…now they're both dead." She broke down again, and Daryl, let her cling to him, sobbing against his shoulder. He felt a hand on his back, and he looked up at Mrs. Greene._

 _"We should leave her to grieve with her mother. You should come with us, Daryl."_

 _"I ain't leavin' her," he said quietly. Mrs. Mason cleared her throat and nodded to Hershel._

 _"It's ok. He can come back with us. They're good friends. We'll figure something out tomorrow, but tonight, he can stay." Hershel nodded and released Daryl, letting the boy go with Carol and her mother, back to the little home they shared at the edge of the small town, where Mr. Mason's hunting knife was still resting by the door, long forgotten in the excitement of the hunt._

...

They kept their eyes on each other, each standing on one side of the front door. Carol felt a tightening in her chest as she pressed her shoulder into the old wood siding of the house, paint long since battered away by rain, wind, and debris. Still, it had passed the test of time. It was still standing. The dingy glass windows were still intact. Every time was a risk.

She slipped her fingers through the knuckle guard of her knife, pulling it free, holding it up, ready.

"You good?" he asked. She nodded at him, jaw clenched shut tightly. He turned the knob, the squeak and groan of time and rust grating the air. Carol flinched at the growl that followed from inside, and she licked her lips, planting her feet firmly on the porch.

The door swung open, and both of them poised themselves for an attack. The walker came stumbling out, not much more than flesh having off of bones, fingers withered and broken, stretching out in angles as Carol raised her arm to attack. Daryl struck first, sticking his knife in the base of the walker's head and thrusting upward from behind. The walker sputtered for a moment before slumping, and Daryl hunched over, lowering it to the ground, falling back on his ass as he pushed the dead weight off him. Carol's eyes widened as another walker came stumbling out, and she threw herself at it, burying her knife in its head. As it began to fall, so did she, and with wide eyes, Daryl realized she was falling toward him. He scooted back just as Carol fell over him, knocking her chin against his shoulder, causing them both to cry out in pain.

"Shit," Daryl grunted. "You ok?"

"I'm fine," she panted, struggling to get herself up. She pressed her hand against the floorboard of the porch, angling up and brushing her hair out of her face. Daryl lay underneath her, lips parted, chest heaving as he stared up at her, eyes searching her face for any sign of injury.

Carol's breaths came in hot little puffs, and he could feel them against his face as she lay over him.

"You're…you're sure you ain't hurt?" he asked, shifting awkwardly under her.

"I'm fine. Did you hit your head?" She began to feel around up over his eyes and then his ears, moving her fingers through his hair, checking for bumps.

"M'fine," he grumbled. "Can't breathe, but m'fine."

"Oh! I'm sorry." She scrambled off him quickly, and Daryl smirked, sitting up and brushing his shirt off. "You're sure you're ok?"

"Good," he chuckled, standing and holding his hand out to help her up. She took it, and she nearly fell into him again when he pulled her up. She steadied herself, placing her hands on his shoulders. She leaned in briefly, and she could have sworn he leaned toward her.

Out of nowhere, a crack of thunder startled them both.

"Best get inside. Make sure the rest of the place is clear. You remember what to do?" Carol gave him a look, and he smirked. "Just checkin'."

They made their way through the dim house, checking each room for any sign of walkers. It was a small house, so it didn't take long, and before long, they were lining up old candles at the windows and lighting them, giving the room a warm, cozy glow.

"My legs are killing me," she murmured tiredly, slumping down on the dusty old couch.

"You'd think they'd let us take a car, but I expect they don't figure us to be on the road that much on a huntin' trip." He yawned, stretching a little. "Next time maybe I can convince Abe or Jim to sneak us some keys."

"They can't risk the car batteries. Those old things only hold up for so long. I'm just complaining," she chuckled. She yawned, stretching on the couch. "What'd you bring?"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"A book? You always have a book with you," she pointed out. Daryl furrowed his brows and slumped down on the couch next to her. He dug into his pack and cursed under his breath. "What?"

"Didn't bring it."

"What?" Carol gasped. "I don't think, in all these years, I've ever seen you without a book in your possession."

"Don't always have my nose in a book," Daryl muttered.

"Well, let's see what we can find," Carol said with a smile. "Maybe something to add to the library in Alexandria." Carol stood and started over to the bookshelf where at least an inch of dust coated everything. She blew on the spines of the books, coughing as the dust flew in her face, and she hummed softly, selecting a book from the shelf.

"Whatcha got?" he asked, as she moved back to the couch and settled back down beside him.

" _Ancient Gods and Goddesses_ ," she murmured. "Oh, I remember reading a book like this when I was a kid. The myths go that thousands of years ago, the ancients had many gods for many things. Oh…look." She flipped through the book. Daryl peeked over her shoulder. Carol turned her head, eyeing him as he read silently over her shoulder. "This one's about the goddess Aurora." She smiled, glancing at him. "Would you read to me? Like old times?" Daryl eyed her. "Oh, come on. You haven't read to me in ages. I miss that." She bit her lip, smiling, her eyes sparkling like blue embers in the dancing shadows cast by the candles. She nudged his shoulder. "Please?" Daryl grumbled something but took the book from her.

"Says here," he started, settling back against the couch. Carol turned, leaning back against the armrest, resting her legs across his lap. She felt him tense briefly before he cleared his throat and focused on the pages. "Says here, Aurora was the goddess of the dawn. She'd move across the sky every mornin', bringin' the sunrise with her. Sounds like you. You're always up at the crack of dawn." Carol nudged him with her foot and laughed. "Her brother was Sol, and her sister was Luna."

"Sun and moon," Carol said softly, smiling and closing her eyes as a steady rain began to beat down upon the rooftop.

"She had a mortal lover, and she didn't want him to die, so she begged the god Jupiter to make him immortal. Guess these old gods had a sense of humor, 'cause he made her lover immortal, but he didn't make him stay the same age. He grew old to live forever as an old man, but she turned him into a bug."

"That's really odd," Carol laughed. "But sad at the same time." She sighed softly. "She loved someone that much that she wanted to be with them forever, even if he wasn't exactly what she expected."

"Guess nobody's life's perfect, hmm?" Daryl asked quietly, shutting the book and sticking it into his pack. He cleared his throat, putting his hands on her feet, and she wiggled her toes, grinning at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Just in a good mood, I guess," she said softly.

"We just got attacked by walkers, and we're sittin' in a dusty-old house. And it's stormin' outside. And you're in a good mood?"

"Mmm," she hummed, smiling wider. Daryl shook his head.

"Sometimes I don't understand you."

"Yes you do," she replied, poking him in the ribs with her toes. "You know me better than anybody else, Daryl Dixon. Since my mom died, _you've_ been my family. I'm thankful you're here with me." She saw the blush fill his cheeks, and she sat up a little. "Daryl?"

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"I'm glad we're here in this dusty old cabin in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"You are?"

"I am," she said with a smile. "I've missed this. Just us. Things haven't been the same between us lately. I want my friend back."

"I'm right here," he shrugged.

"You're here, but…something's different. Something's been different for a while." She sighed softly, bringing her legs over and off his lap, tucking them under herself. She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as she leaned forward.

"You alright?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.

"We'll be twenty-one next year, Daryl. We have choices to make. They're going to expect us to have it all figured out by then, and…"

"What're you gettin' at?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. "You act like one of us is leavin' or somethin'." Carol sighed heavily and leaned back against the couch. What was it about men that made them so damned clueless? Michonne had told her about the way she'd seen Daryl staring, about how he always seemed to be watching her when she didn't realize it. But what did that mean when she couldn't even talk to him about these feelings she couldn't quite put a label on? It certainly didn't help that he didn't seem to be picking up on anything at all.

"Oh, just forget it. It doesn't matter," she sighed. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

"What about dinner?"

"You can have the rabbit. I'm not hungry." She started to stand, but he yanked on her hand, pulling her back down on the couch.

"Don't be stupid. You're gonna eat, even if I have to shove each bite down your damned throat." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat. She shook her head and leaned forward, pushing Daryl's hair out of his eyes.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You let me cut your hair. You look like a sheepdog."

"You ain't comin' nowhere near me with a pair of scissors, woman."

"You have beautiful eyes, but you don't let people see them." She stood and moved behind the couch, ruffling his hair with her fingers. "You never know, you might land yourself a girl if you just let them see how nice your eyes really are. A woman likes a man with soulful eyes, you know." He tilted his head to the side, watching the way her eyes searched his, and he felt a tug in his chest, a loss. His own loss for being too blind to see the woman right in front of him, the woman he'd dreamed about, the woman he'd convinced himself he could never have, because she was his friend. Rick, apparently, had known better than he had. So why was it now that all he could think about was how this was his chance and this might be his only chance.

He was frozen, hands shaking as he fought the sudden urge to bridge the gap between them and press his lips to hers. But she moved then, sanding and turning to the old hearth where years-old ashes lay under a pile of dusty old logs. She knelt by down, grabbing a flint from her pocket. In a matter of minutes, she had a small fire going, and she added some crumpled up old papers from under the couch to it to get a decent cooking fire blazing.

Daryl took to cleaning the animal in the kitchen before rigging the meat over the fire to cook. He settled back down, and he noticed the metallic clink as Carol removed a pair of scissors from her pack.

"You bring those with you just to cut my damned hair?" he asked.

"No," she laughed. "You never know when you're going to need scissors. But while we're here…?"

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Now I won't cut it if you really don't want me too," she promised.

"Nah," he muttered. "Go 'head. Gets too hot anyway." Carol smiled then, and she scooted to the edge of the couch, patting the spot between her legs. Daryl eyed her momentarily before scooting back against the couch, putting one hand on each of her feet, and Carol smiled, running her fingers through his hair, straightening it out. "What, you didn't pack a brush, too?"

"Beggars can't be choosers," she teased.

"Who's beggin'?"

"Let's just see where the night takes us, hmm?" Carol felt Daryl stiffen under her touch, and she froze, too. She had just actually said those words out loud, and she was mortified. But instead of making her feel uncomfortable about it, Daryl just sighed and relaxed against the couch.

"Don't cut my ear off or anything."

"Promise," she laughed, thankful for the save from total embarrassment.

She cut his hair shorter, leaving a little length but keeping it out of his eyes. Daryl closed his eyes as she worked, reveling in the feel of her fingers working through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. His scalp tingled. His neck felt like it was on fire, and there was a distinct stirring in his groin as his belly twisted into knots. He felt a wave of panic as the sweat began to bead at his forehead. And she wondered why things were different between them. It didn't help that every time she touched him, he thought of her touching him in other ways.

"You ok? You're shaking," Carol said softly, pausing, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"M'fine," he muttered. "You done?"

"I'm done," she said with a smile. She began to brush her fingers over his neck and shoulders. He knew what she was doing. She was just getting the wisps of hair off of him. But it felt like so much more. Her fingertips felt electric, sending snaps of fire through his skin, straight to a part of his soul that he'd never let himself think about. The part that was used to losing everybody and everything that mattered in his life. There was a reason he kept people at arm's length. He'd lost everybody. His daddy, his mama, his brother. But now, as she ran her fingers so gently over his neck and his shoulders, he was reminded that he wasn't the only one who'd lost everything. Carol had lost her father in the most brutal, terrible way. And then her mother had passed. And she'd been alone, too.

He found himself reaching up, grabbing her hand. She gasped softly but didn't pull back, as his fingers gently squeezed hers.

"Daryl?" she asked gently, leaning over his shoulder, turning her face to look at him. She saw him flinch and then swallow hard.

He turned his face toward hers, and he let her hand fall to his shoulder again. And then he was kissing her, and she wasn't pulling away, scolding him, or laughing at him, and he realized that maybe Rick Grimes was right about everything after all.

She leaned over his shoulder, pressing her lips firmly against his, unwilling in that moment to break the kiss she'd dreamed about more often than she'd cared to ever admit to anyone. Her arms fell around his shoulders, circling there, holding him close as she began to move. She moved to the floor, holding him from behind, pressing her chest against his back, gasping softly between kisses as he turned in her arms, cupping her face with his hands, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her face to deepen the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, he couldn't meet her eyes, until he saw her lips curl up into a smile.

"Took you long enough," she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek with the back of her hand. His mouth fell open and then closed again a couple of times as he sought out the words, but the only ones he could think of were stuck in the back of his throat, and he couldn't get them out. "Hey. You're not going to run, are you?" Daryl shook his head. "Good. I'm glad that's settled." She smiled again, and he followed suit, his eyes sparkling as his lips curled up.

Her heart swelled. He didn't smile like that very often, and she was touched that she could bring it out of him in that way. But as quickly as the smile appeared on his lips, it faded, and he was kissing her again, hands ghosting down her sides and over her hips, not daring to pull her any closer, for fear that he wouldn't be able to stop. He didn't want to scare her, but God, he'd never wanted anyone like this before. And suddenly, he understood everything that Rick had been teasing him about, everything his he felt deep down when he saw a couple of lovers kissing. This was what all the fuss was about, and all he wanted was more.

He wanted to pull his arms around her, hold her close, kiss her deeper, but before he could act on those impulses, the house shook, first with the rumble of thunder and then with the distinct echo of gunfire, screaming through the sky in a rain of terror.

Daryl pushed Carol to the floor, crawling over her, shielding her as she buried her face against his neck, eyes screwing shut tightly as the sound echoed through the house, bouncing off the windows and shaking her to her very core.

"Stay down!" he grunted, reaching for his pack and picking up a handgun, old and worn but trusty and accurate.

"I'm a good shot!" she insisted.

"Just stay down," he growled. "Don't move." He crawled over to the closes window, gun poised in his hand. But before he could get his bearings and figure out what was going on, the gunfire ceased, and the storm outside raged on as if nothing else had happened at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _"Now, Daryl, she needs rest," Mrs. Mason insisted, as she put her hand on the young man's shoulder. At fifteen, he towered over her, having shot up in height over the last year. Mrs. Mason was a small, slender woman, so it was not that unusual for someone to be taller than she was. But it hadn't been that long ago that Daryl had had to look up to the woman._

 _"Is she gonna be alright? She ain't bit, is she?"_

 _"No," Mrs. Mason said softly. "She's going to be alright. She's taking herbs, and she's getting better, but she needs rest." Daryl nodded, looking to the ground. He couldn't even put into words that all he wanted to do was sit by her bed and let her know that he was there and that she would be ok. But he couldn't speak._

 _Mrs. Mason coughed and wheezed, and she began to fall. Daryl caught her quickly and helped her over to a chair._

 _"You alright, ma'am?"_

 _"Just a bit tired, Daryl. Don't worry. I'm as strong as an ox." She smiled then, a smile that reminded him so much of Carol. Even at her weakest, she could manage a bit of positivity, and that was a rare thing. "Go on. You can sit with her for a few minutes, but only a few minutes."_

 _"You need help to your room?"_

 _"No. No, I have far too many things to do," she said with a shake of her head. "Don't you worry about me." Daryl eyed the woman. "I'm taking herbs, too. I'll be alright. It's just the flu. Same as Carol."_

 _"You sure, ma'am?"_

 _"Go on, now. Just a few minutes, alright?" She waved toward Carol's room, and Daryl nodded. "Don't need you gettin' sick, too."_

 _"Yes, ma'am." Daryl cleared his throat and started toward Carol's room, a place he'd spent so much time as a kid. Now, as he opened the door and peeked inside, he felt a bit strange, like he shouldn't be there. But the moment Carol saw his face at the door, her face lit up, and she smiled._

 _"Hey," she called softly from the bed._

 _"You up for company?"_

 _"Always," she said with a smile. "Come here." She smiled, waving him over, and he stepped into the room, cross the distance between them and sitting on a chair next to the bed._

 _"You feelin' ok?"_

 _"Better," she said with a nod._

 _"Your mama's gonna be bootin' my ass on out the door in a few minutes, so I can't stay long. You need anything?"_

 _"No," she said softly. "I'm so tired."_

 _"You can sleep. I can go."_

 _"You don't have to," she murmured as her eyes fought to stay open. "Just sit with me a while?"_

 _"Ok," he said quietly. "'Til you fall asleep?"_

 _"Hmm," she hummed with a soft smile as her heavy eyelids finally closed shut, and she sighed softly, letting sleep pull her under. Daryl gently reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. With a soft sigh, he relaxed in the chair and closed his eyes and prayed she'd recover quickly._

 _..._

Carol crawled across the floor, pulling herself up to rest on her knees, peering out the window right next to Daryl as the rain continued to pelt against the roof. It slapped against the sides of the house, and the wind rattled the weathered storm windows.

"You see anything?" she asked after several moments. Daryl shook his head, narrowing his gaze as he wiped his hand over the steam from their breaths that fogged up the window.

"Don't see a damned thing."

"How far do you think we are from Alexandria?"

"Dunno. Ten miles? We walked a long way 'fore we found this place."

"Shouldn't we go out there? Maybe they're some of our people. Maybe they're looking for us, and they got caught tangled with a herd?"

"Our people know better'n to open fire like that, 'specially when they ain't got the walls to retreat to." Daryl shook his head.

"If they aren't our people, then maybe there _is_ another town."

"Maybe," Daryl conceded. He pulled himself to his feet, and Carol followed suit. He started for the door, but she put her hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Gonna go check it out."

"Not by yourself, you're not. I'm coming with you." Daryl sighed heavily, but he knew arguing with her would be exhausting, and he wouldn't win in the end.

"You stay close to me."

"Not a problem," she said with a little smile. He felt his neck and cheeks grow warm then, and he grabbed his weapons. As the thunder crashed and bellowed outside, Carol moved to the small closet next to the door. She quickly rummaged through it, pulling out a rather musty old tan and red cloth poncho and an old, clear rubber poncho that had more than a decade's worth of dust on it, but it would be better than nothing.

Daryl took the cloth poncho, and she slid the other one on, and together they headed outside to find that the temperature had dropped drastically since before the storm.

Carol shivered as she stepped off of the porch with Daryl, each with their crossbows drawn as they flinched in the cold rain. Steam rose up from the warm ground as the cold rain pelted against it, and Carol glanced at Daryl. It was too quiet. Aside from the settling storm, it was still and silent, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Something's wrong," she murmured, turning to stare down the street. She glanced toward the alley near the house, gasping and gripping Daryl's arm. "Daryl." He turned, following her gaze to see the trail of walker bodies leading from the street all the way down the alley.

"Shit," he murmured. The water rolling down the slight decline from the alley was tinted with brown muck. Pieces of flesh and bone gathered on the sewer grate, and Carol let out a soft groan.

"Get back in the house. Now." He grabbed for her hand, leading her up the steps and back into the house. He locked the rusted deadbolt and chained it, pressing his back against the wall as he shivered and brushed the water out of his hair with his fingers.

"What the hell happened?" Carol murmured, shrugging off her poncho and tossing it to the floor.

"Dunno, but we best stay quiet. Lay low. Somebody's out there with the kind of ammo that blows them sumbitches to pieces, and we sure as hell don't know 'em. We ain't got the ammo to go up against 'em. Best to just stay quiet and let 'em pass through." Carol shivered, blinking as droplets of water fell into her eyes. "C'mon. Let's eat supper, and then we'll try to sleep."

"Don't think I can," Carol admitted. "What if they go to Alexandria? What if…"

"Can't worry 'bout that right now. Gotta focus on us. On keepin' ourselves hidden. Maybe they're passin' through. Maybe they ain't gonna—"

Three rapid knocks at the front door startled them both. Daryl flashed a glance at Carol, a silent plea to stay quiet, and she grabbed her knife, gripping it tightly in her hand. Daryl nodded, stepping to the wide of the door, gripping the knob tightly in his hand. If it came down to killing another person to protect her, he was willing to do it. But just as the thought crossed his mind, Carol moved to the door, knife poised for attack. She wasn't hiding. She didn't need protecting. She could hold her own, and as much as his instincts told him to protect her, keep her safe at all costs, those same instincts told him that she was strong and could handle this.

Before Daryl could unlock the door, a series of rapid-fire gunshots splintered the door, and Daryl quickly lunged toward Carol, pushing her to the ground, urging her under the hallway table. It moments, the door fell open, throwing up a cloud of dust. All Daryl could see were booted feet and gun barrels as something hard fell against the floor, rolling into the corner.

"Fuck!" he hissed out, pushing Carol down against the floor, covering her as he braced himself for pain, for death, for whatever came next. The whole house shook with the bang, as pieces of dusty plaster fell to the ground. Daryl's ears rung, as incoherent shouts were followed by strong arms gripping his shoulders and tugging him away from Carol. He could hear her shouting as he was pulled away, and as he struggled to fight off his offenders, the cold steel from the butt of a rifle cracked against the back of his skull. Everything went black, and the last thing he heard before he fell unconscious was Carol's voice screaming his name.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _"Daryl Dixon? What are you doing?" Carol asked, stepping up behind the young man as he kicked his foot hard against the steel wall. "You trying to break your foot or something?"_

 _"Just leave me be," he grumbled, pressing his hands hard against the wall, hanging his head as he breathed heavily, deeply, trying to calm the anger._

 _"This about the council not letting you go outside the gates? What did you think they'd say?"_

 _"My brother," Daryl said quietly. "My daddy and your daddy took Merle out there 'fore he was eighteen."_

 _"Yeah. They did," Carol said with a nod, crossing her arms across her chest. "And I remember my dad talking about how hard he had to work to convince the council to go. Your brother was a troublemaker, and I think the council knew they'd have a hell of a fight on their hands if they didn't give in. As I recall, your brother was the only exception the council ever made to that rule." She watched Daryl spit onto the ground and bang his fist against the wall. "You'll be eighteen in a week. What's the rush?"_

 _"They expect everybody to learn just 'bout everything there is to do in Alexandria. How the hell they expect us to learn how to hunt if we can't fuckin' go out there and hunt?"_

 _"Target practice. Weapons training."_

 _"Then we get out there, see a buck for the first time and piss in our pants?" Carol smirked at that._

 _"Daryl, you and I both know you've been outside those walls. I'm pretty sure the council knows too, but they never caught you, so they can't punish you. Don't give them a reason."_

 _"It's bullshit. That's what it is. We expect these kids to grow up, go out there and hunt. Scavenge. But we don't take 'em outside the gates to actually practice doin' that? You hate it when I go over the wall. But you know why I do it."_

 _"I know," Carol murmured. "Daryl, maybe you should be on the council someday. Convince them to change it. Convince them that these kids aren't going to be prepared unless they actually get outside the walls for a bit. Maybe they need a little fear to make them better hunters. Better leaders." Carol leaned against the wall. "You want to go up to the tower?"_

 _"Nah."_

 _"C'mon," she laughed. "We can fool around if you want."_

 _"Stop," he snorted. Carol laughed then, nudging his arm. "You're a damn tease, you know that?"_

 _"Who said I was teasing?" She gave him a wink, and he shook his head. "C'mon. I'll make you some of my famous cookies. Those always make you feel better."_

 _"Don't want no cookies."_

 _"Well, too bad. Now come on, before I give my cookies to Tobin Murphy."_

 _"He can't handle your cookies," Daryl snorted._

 _"Well, then you better come get them before he comes sniffing around my kitchen." She turned and headed back toward her house, and Daryl couldn't help but let his gaze wander to her ass as he walked, hips swaying slightly. He felt a little dizzy, felt his stomach twist into knots. But he knew it was all in fun. They teased each other. They were comfortable enough with one another to do that. It didn't mean anything. Right?_

 _She turned around then, and he narrowly avoided being caught staring at her ass._

 _"You coming?" she asked with a smile._

 _"Comin'," he called, following after her, catching up with her with a few brisk steps before falling into pace beside her._

...

Daryl groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up on a creaky old cot. His lungs burned from the smoke. All he could remember was the blast, everything going hazy, drywall and plaster falling around them as he was pulled away from Carol and hit over the back of the head. He was dizzy, sweating, and when he moved his hand away from the back of his head, he expected to see blood. There was a definite knot back there, but he wasn't bleeding.

He peered around the room. It was small, like a holding cell in the Sheriff's office in Alexandria. His own daddy had spent a time or two in one of those, he recalled.

With a groan, he swung his legs over the side of the cot, hunched over, holding his stomach as he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Here. Drink this. It'll help with the nausea and the headache." He scooted back on the cot then and pressed his back against the wall, peering over into the corner where a man sat with a steaming cup in his hand.

"Where is she?"

"She's fine. She's next door."

"I wanna see her."

"You can see her after she's been questioned."

"You ain't got no right to keep us here," Daryl growled, scooting back to the edge of the cot, standing weakly and glaring at the man who sat in the corner. The man stood then, taking a few steps toward Daryl so he could see him better. He was a kind looking man, though his eyes were distant, as if he had lost too much to ever be fully whole again. Daryl could see bruises on the man's dark skin, signs of battle and struggle.

"The way I see it, son, you don't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the man who saved your ass. I don't expect any apologies, but you were out there like sitting ducks."

"I'm s'posed to fuckin' believe that? You came in, blowin' shit up…"

"You can believe what you want. We couldn't be too careful. You could've been anyone. Could have attacked us."

"Fuck you," Daryl seethed.

"I'll leave this here for you," the man offered, placing the cup of steaming liquid on a small table.

"I ain't drinkin' that shit." The man shrugged his shoulders, lifted the cup back into his hands and took a sip of it himself before putting it back down. Daryl watched him, eyes narrowed. "I'll come back when you've calmed down." The man left, and Daryl lunged for him, but the door was shut before he could get at him, and Daryl knocked his shoulder hard against the wall, groaning as he slumped there, rubbing the sore muscle with calloused fingers.

He banged his fist hard against the wall.

"You let me outta here!" He banged again. "Carol! Carol!" He heard nothing, only footsteps echoing down the hallway. "Fuck!" He slammed his outstretched hand against the wooden door before pulling away. The pain in his head was overwhelming now. He pulled at his hair, groaning as he held his head in his hands. He looked back to the steaming cup, the cup the man had just drank from, and he made his way to the table.

He lifted the hot cup in his hand, smelling the steam as it swirled up from the dark broth. He recognized the aroma. The herbs were some they used in Alexandria. He couldn't remember the names at the moment, as he had never paid as much attention to that aspect of his training as he should have. But he knew they were healing herbs, and the throbbing in his head was one of the worst headaches he'd ever experienced.

He drank the liquid down in two gulps. If he was going to die, then he might as well feel a little better before that time came.

He slammed the empty cup down on the table and began to pace like a wild animal in a trap. All he could think about was getting to her, getting her out of there and getting her back safely to Alexandria.

...

"Where did you come from?" a young woman asked, standing across from Carol with her hands folded in front of her.

"Does it matter?" Carol asked, narrowing her eyes at the stranger.

"You haven't answered any of my questions. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just trying to help."

"Where is he?" Carol demanded, hands on her hips as she searched for her weapons.

"He's next door. He's fine. He has a hell of a headache, but…"

"Let me see him, and I'll answer your questions."

"I can't do that. I'm not in charge, here." Carol's shoulders slumped, and she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Her hands shook, and she felt a little dizzy.

"Where are my weapons?"

"They're downstairs. Look, we didn't have time to chitchat, and we had to get you out of there, so you'll understand if we don't apologize for the way we handled things." The young woman stood a bit shorter than Carol, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was petite, but she had a bit of sass about her and a kindness in her eyes that made Carol feel that maybe there was something genuine about what the girl was saying. "We didn't know if we could trust you, and you two were armed to the teeth. We had to get you out."

"Why?"

"You went outside. You saw the dead guys, right?"

"Walkers," Carol murmured, rubbing her temples as she slowly came out of the fog. Someone had drugged her, stuck a needle in the side of her neck to knock her out when they'd stormed the house.

"Walkers? That what you call 'em? I call them pains in the asses," the girl snorted. "Here, we just call them roamers. Skin bags." The girl smirked. "There were a shit ton more where they came from. There was a herd heading your way."

"So you thought throwing a bomb—"

"Flash bang grenade," the woman corrected.

"Whatever," Carol muttered. "You thought that was the best way to rescue us?"

"We thought you might be with him."

"Him?"

"But you're not."

"How do you know that?" Carol asked, not even certain what she was asking or what the other woman was talking about.

"Because if you were, you'd be marked." A knock came to the door, and the young woman turned to leave.

"Wait."

"Look, I'm not in charge here, so you're just going to have to chill here until…"

"Please…is he ok?"

"I told you. He's next door. He's fine. Look, you need to just calm down. You won't be hurt. Just…breathe. We aren't going to hurt you _or_ your husband." Carol flinched at that but didn't correct the girl.

"I need to see him," Carol urged.

"I get it. I do. But you're going to have to be patient. You're safe here." The knock at the door sounded again. "Alright, I'm coming!" she shouted. Carol started toward the door, and the young woman got in her way.

"If I'm safe here, why won't you let me leave?"

"I can't. It's just the way we do things around here, alright. Just don't panic. Someone will be in to see you soon." The woman quickly left the room and locked it behind her. Carol started toward the door but grew dizzy quickly, leaning against the wall to keep herself upright.

"Daryl," she murmured quietly, feeling her eyelids fluttering closed as she fought the urge to stay conscious. "Please be ok. Please…" She slumped to the floor as the room began to spin around her. She fought to keep her eyes open to no avail, and everything slowly faded to black.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _"Why can't I play?" The little girl with freckles and red pigtails crossed her arms and glared at the boy that sat across from her in the grass. "Is it 'cause I'm a girl?" She was missing her two front teeth, which made her s's come out in a 'th' sound._

 _"Ain't 'cause you're a girl," the boy with sandy blonde hair replied, digging his stick deep into the ant hill, watching the little critters scatter in all directions._

 _"Don't do that! You'll hurt them!" she cried out. He jumped, dropping the stick._

 _"Didn't hurt 'em much. Just gave 'em somethin' to climb on." The girl narrowed her eyes at him._

 _"Why won't you let me play with you?" she asked again. "You don't have any friends."_

 _"Sure I do," he shot back. "I got plenty of friends."_

 _"Name one," Carol challenged, jutting her chin out._

 _"Rick Grimes," Daryl shot back._

 _"You still have a black eye he gave you the other day at school."_

 _"Yeah? You seen his face? He's got two black eyes."_

 _"Boys are weird."_

 _"Girls are weird, too." Just when he expected her to get mad or stalk off, she grinned and laughed._

 _"I like you."_

 _"Why?" he asked, making a face._

 _"I dunno. I just do. I'll be your friend if you want."_

 _"Don't need no more friends."_

 _"Everybody needs friends," Carol pointed out. "That's what my mama says." Daryl eyed her for a moment before retrieving the stick from the anthill. He offered it to her._

 _"Here. You wanna dig?" he asked, watching her eyes light up at the invitation. She grinned at him, sticking the tip of her tongue out between the gap left by her missing teeth._

 _"Thanks," she chirped, settling in to dig in the dirt with her new best friend._

...

"Hey. Hey!" Carol woke abruptly, blinking rapidly when she felt a cold hand patting her cheek. She focused her gaze on the dark eyes of the young woman she'd spoken to earlier. "Welcome back. Guess you still had a little bit in your system."

"What was that?" Carol asked, rubbing her sore neck. "Someone put a needle in my neck."

"It wasn't a needle," the girl confessed. "Well, it was, but it was a pine needle dipped in…well, something herbal that I can't pronounce it, but our doctor uses it during operations."

"You have a doctor?" Carol asked softly.

"Sure," the girl replied. "We have a pretty great collection of text books in our library. Medical textbooks, stuff like that. Nobody's perfect, but our doc gets the job done, anyway. Are there doctors where you come from?" Carol glanced at the girl but said nothing. She moaned softly, sitting up in the cot and swinging her legs over the side. The girl backed up and turned to wheel a cart toward Carol.

"What's this?"

"Dinner," the girl replied.

"I'm not hungry."

"You sure about that?" Carol's stomach growled the moment she got a whiff of beef. The girl removed a tray from the cart and placed it on the table by the cot.

"It's beef with carrots and potatoes. And fresh milk."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Carol asked, looking from the tray to the girl.

"I take it you have these things back home, huh? You're just not willing to tell me where that's at?"

"I want to see Daryl."

"I figured you'd say that. Turns out, he's just about as stubborn as you are." She raised her brows and shrugged. "Alright." She moved to the door, and gave three taps.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked quietly.

"You win," the girl replied. Carol's eyes widened as the door opened, and in stepped Daryl, hands bound, eyes covered with a bandana. Carol eyed the man that led him in and took a few eager steps toward Daryl, halting as the other man held his hand up briefly.

"Who are you?" Carol asked, gripping the edge of her shirt, anxiously waiting for the chance to actually touch Daryl, feel his skin under her fingertips and know that he was ok.

"I'm just a guy trying to keep his people safe," he replied. "Tara. You got this?"

"I've got this," the girl replied. The man nodded his head toward the hall, and Tara nodded, following him out the door.

"Daryl," Carol gasped, as soon as the door shut. She rushed to him, bringing her hands to his face, tugging off the bandana that blocked his sight. He flinched, blinking a few times to regain his focus before his eyes locked on hers. "God, are you alright?"

"I'm alright. They hurt you?"

"No," she choked out, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. She placed her hands against both sides of his face, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.

"Get this off me," he murmured when she pulled back. He nodded toward the rope around his wrists. Carol made quick work of loosening the knot and freeing his hands, and then those hands were cupping her face, and he was stepping toward her, kissing her, walking backward with her as her arms wrapped around him.

"Thank God," she whispered between kisses. "Thank God you're ok."

"You find out anything?" he asked, pulling away but keeping his hands on her arms, unwilling to break contact with her just yet.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Guess you know as much as I do, then." Carol brought her hand to his face, moving her hand back to gently stroke his hair. He winced, and she felt the lump there. Concern creased her brow, and he shook his head.

"Promise I'm alright."

"God, where are we?" she whispered.

"Couldn't get a look at the place. Didn't have no windows where I was. They took my weapons."

"They took mine, too. Tara, I guess that's her name. She said they thought we were with 'him.' Do you know what they're talking about?"

"No," he replied, turning to look at the door. "But they owe us some answers." Carol's stomach growled. Loudly. Daryl took her hand.

"You eat?"

"I was afraid to," she admitted.

"I get the feelin' they ain't aimin' to hurt us, but they don't trust us." Carol nodded toward the table where the tray of food lay, and she sighed. "We ain't gonna be no use to 'em if we starve to death, so I can't see 'em puttin' nothin' in our food."

"No. They just hit you over the head and drugged me." She rubbed her neck. Daryl narrowed his eyes, examining the small red spot where Carol had been drugged.

"You feelin' ok?"

"I'm fine now. They knocked me out pretty good though."

"Yeah," Daryl muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Tell me about it." They moved to Carol's cot, sitting down side by side. Carol pulled the table over in front of them, picking up a piece of meat between her fingers. She sniffed it, trying to detect any hint of anything that shouldn't have been there, but all she smelled made her stomach growl harder.

"We have to eat," she concluded. "If they're going to kill us, at least we'll have full stomachs, right?" Daryl eyed her then, picking up a piece of carrot between his fingers and popping it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, savoring the taste.

"Think it's ok," he said quietly, nodding toward the plate, urging Carol to eat. They began to pick at the food on the plate, eating quickly as their hunger took over.

...

After finishing the plate, they had tried to find a way to get out of the room, and after finding no lucky, they'd settled down on the cot together, resting their backs against the wall. Carol slipped her hand inside of his, and they waited.

"They think we're married," Carol said softly. Daryl glanced at her briefly, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I don't know why, and I didn't correct them. They kept asking me where we came from, who we were with."

"Yeah," Daryl replied with a tired nod of the head. "My guy wasn't much of a talker, but he said he was savin' us."

"Tara said there was a herd coming our way, that they wanted to get us out, but they thought maybe we were with someone else. Someone dangerous, I guess. She said that she figured we weren't, because we weren't marked."

"We're gettin' outta here. We ain't stayin' here." Daryl started to push himself up off the cot but froze the door swung open. The man he'd spoken to when he'd first woken up came walking in. The man with dark skin looked clean-shaven now, and he came walking in with a large pack over his shoulder. He placed it on the floor by the door.

"I think the time for questioning is over," the man said, pulling a chair out to the center of the floor and taking a seat. "My name is Morgan Jones. My people were on a recovery mission. You two were sitting ducks in the red zone."

"Red zone?" Carol asked.

"The house you were in. It's a mile in a half in two directions from two separate, massive herds of roamers. There happened to be a herd heading right for you. The first of them had broken off, but the others were following. We had one man in the red zone, and our people in the tower had noticed the herd shifting, coming down right on top of where our man was. We were on a search and recovery mission, getting him out of harm's way when you two must've heard the gunshots, come wandering out of that house."

"And there's somebody out there, some man who marks people, and you thought the only way of making sure we weren't with him was knocking us out cold and dragging us back to this place, taking our weapons, separating us?"

"We can't be too careful," Morgan insisted. "Where are you from? Where are your people?" Daryl opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and closed it again, lips settling in a firm, grim line. "Have you heard of Woodbury."

"Woodbury? No," Daryl spoke up.

"There's a man there. Story goes that Woodbury was the perfect place to be after the Turn. Solar panels, refrigeration systems, a team of doctors working 'round the clock to come up with a cure. There was a group of leaders, there was a system of government. And then the roamers got in, wiped out half of the population, and one young man saw the opportunity to take control. He single-handedly made a spectacle of taking out each and every last one of those roamers. He became a hero, became a legend. They even had a nickname for him. The Governor. And they treated him that way. Within a year, the council had dissolved, and The Governor ran the show."

"Where's the part where we're s'posed to be shakin' in our boots?" Daryl asked, getting nudged in the ribs by Carol.

"Governor had a wife. Pretty little daughter. They were killed in that first attack. Governor blamed the council for not keeping Woodbury safe. After he took control, each council member began to die off. One disappeared in the night, body was found hanging at the wall. One was found dead in his bed, appeared to have died in his sleep."

"How do you know so much about this place? You've been there?" Carol asked.

"Not me," Morgan said quietly. "Tara?" The door opened again, and Tara came walking in. She closed the door behind herself, leaning against it.

"I was there. I didn't know him as The Governor. I knew him as Phillip, the guy who saved me and my sister and my little niece. The guy who cared for my dad in his final days, helping us get him to safety when the biters came. Biters. That's what Phillip called them." She scoffed. "He was on a recruiting mission, said he wanted to bring us in, keep us safe. My dad died on the road. My sister got bit before we reached the gates. And then my niece…she tried to run away. We went looking for her, found her too late. She got bit. Phillip pulled his pistol out, shot her right between the eyes." Tara shuddered at the memory. "When we got back to Woodbury, it wasn't what he told me it would be. The place was…primitive. Brutal. There were pits with biters, and they threw dissenters into them, made a spectacle of it. Had people fighting chained up biters for fun. The solar panels were broken. * People were drinking rain water, cooking over fires again. People were fighting over food. Killing each other for food. I spent two days there before I made a run for it, nearly got a bullet in my back in the process."

"You said he marks people," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes at Tara.

"Yeah," she smirked, "once you prove your loyalty. He expects you to kill for him, or to make some other grand gesture that proves you're loyal to him only. If he suspects you aren't loyal, he'll kill your family, make you watch. Throw you to the biters and make an example of you. If you're loyal, he brands you like cattle, gives you a mark above your shoulder, showing that you belong to him. And by the time you let him brand you, he's already brainwashed you into believing that he truly wants to keep you safe, that he wants the best for you. I think escaping before I got that far in was the only thing that saved me from being shot on sight the minute I stumbled into these guys." She nodded toward Morgan. "Once you've been branded, you've already done something awful for that guy, and there's no trusting you after that."

"So this Governor, he lives close?"

"About forty miles north of here. Goes out looking for other communities, other people to bring into Woodbury or to make examples of."

"And Tara's the only one of you that's seen him?"

"Oh, Morgan's seen him," Tara spoke up.

"That's enough," he said sharply, throwing a look her way. Tara's eyes widened with realization, and she looked away. "You've never heard of this man? Never encountered him? Count yourselves lucky. He knows about us. Knows what we have here. The system failed when he took over. See, we still have solar power, we have working farms. We have something he wants. And he sends groups, sometimes comes out himself, trying to take it from us. If he doesn't know about your home, about your town, if you even have one, then it's only a matter of time before he does, before he tries to make his way in, tries to kill every bit of progress you've made, tries to kill your leaders, your children, tries to take away from you what he feels was taken from him. He's got power, but that's about all he has. He rules by fear and _in_ fear, and he would sooner kill you than let you speak." Morgan shook his head.

"When was the last time he was seen around here?" Carol asked, leaning forward, intrigued by the story.

"He hasn't been seen for close to six months. He's waiting. He's planning. Don't think there's a time this man isn't planning something. Always thinking six steps ahead. It's why we couldn't be too careful with the two of you."

"You the man in charge here?" Daryl asked, nodding toward Morgan.

"In charge? I wouldn't really put it that way. I was a boy when the world changed. I remember the way it was, though. People could be ruthless, evil. Take away civilization. Take away justice. Some people just cracked. Some people let this world take hold of the part of them that knows right from wrong. This world is cold. Cruel. But what we have here? We are building something. We are creating and sustaining life in a world where death is the top of the food chain." Morgan leaned forward, eyeing Carol and then Daryl. "Where you came from? There are other people?" Daryl nodded hesitantly. "Walls? A refuge." Carol and Daryl eyed one another before nodding in the affirmative. "You were born there?"

"Yes," Carol said softly.

"Then you need to warn your people. If he doesn't know about them by now, he will, and when he does, he's going to kill them all."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 _Author's Note: If anyone was wondering about the geography here, yes, I know Woodbury was in Georgia on The Walking Dead. I need it in Virginia to suit the story, so, it's in Virginia now. Think of it kind of as a big arc with Woodbury closer to Morgan's place than Alexandria. Thanks for the feedback, guys!_

"What's with the blindfolds? The rope? You say you wanna help us, but you're treatin' us like we're prisoners?" Daryl glanced at Morgan as they started down the steep stairs where yellowed wallpaper peeled just where the wall met the ceiling.

"Precaution," Morgan said quietly. "We had you separated from your wife for questioning. We had to make sure you weren't going to retaliate before we got you to her. Cut off the sight, bind the hands, the fight goes out of you. Survival instincts kick in." Daryl glanced at Carol, and she gave him a half-smile. They stepped off of the stairs and onto a hardwood floor where a threadbare rug lay between the steps and the door. Morgan caught the look, as he opened the front door and led them out onto the porch, into the cool, fresh night air. "What?" Carol snapped her attention to her surroundings, avoiding Morgan's question.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking up at the sky as the stars twinkled brightly against the blackened sky. "How far have we come from the town you found us at?"

"Fifteen miles? Twenty, maybe," Tara said, stepping up onto the porch with a gun slung over her shoulder. "We travel in wide radiuses. And we had to put distance between us and the herd."

"What do you call this place?" Daryl asked, looking down the street at the rows of houses, each with a yard, each with a light in the window. There were fields that seemed to stretch for a mile. The faint smell of manure caught on the breeze, as did the dew in the night air. It was misting, and the moisture clung to their clothes and skin.

"We call this place the Hilltop. We overlook a valley, fields and forests. We have spotters on each side of the wall, if anyone approaches, they know first. They've spotted herds an hour before they've come to the gates. If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't still be standing," Morgan explained. "We've had a wall or two to replace from time to time, but we make it work. The Governor's tried to take down all four walls, but so far, he hasn't succeeded."

"It's so much like home, Daryl," Carol murmured softly. "How many people here?"

"About two hundred," Morgan said with a little nod. "Two hundred three by our records."

"Two hundred four," Tara corrected. "Katie McLeod had a boy this morning," Tara replied with a smile. "Milton says he's healthy and strong."

"Who's Milton?" Daryl asked.

"Milton Mamet. He's one of our doctors. His father was a surgeon, and he taught him everything he knew," Tara recited, as if reading from a book. "He's a little…odd, but he's smart, and he's saved the lives of more than a few people here on the Hill."

"Do you have a map?" Daryl asked, glancing at Morgan. The man nodded. "I'd like to see it. Know how to get back home to our people."

"Of course," Morgan replied with a nod. "I'd apologize for not offering an escort to wherever it is you're planning on going, but since you seem reluctant to tell me where that is, I don't think it'll hurt your feelings that much." Daryl smirked then, and Morgan nodded toward a small building at across the street. "The two of you can stay here for the night. There's a place to sleep, shower. We'll have some more food brought over."

"Thank you," Carol said with a hesitant nod. "That's nice of you."

"It isn't very often we have guests that aren't trying to blow our asses away," Tara pointed out. "You're cool in my book." She stepped up on the porch first and opened up the door. "Don't worry. It's locked. You know, if you two want to…"

"Uh, thanks," Daryl muttered, cheeks flushing red as he caught a funny look from Carol. It was a cross between amusement and curiosity. Carol stepped in first, feeling along the wall for a light switch. The room flooded with light moments later, and she was surprised to find a small, nicely furnished apartment. There was a door in the corner, and she could spot the edge of a shower. There was a bed in the other corner, neatly made with crisp, fresh sheets. There was even a small kitchen off to the side and a table with two chairs. There was a couch in the center of the floor. It was a sweet, cozy little place, and seeing that bed made Carol realize the weight of her exhaustion.

"You're welcome to stay, figure out your bearings," Morgan offered. "I'll bring you a map, and you can go from there. Like I said, Tara will bring you some food, and you can sleep. Wouldn't worry too much right now. If your people haven't heard of The Governor, it's because he hasn't heard of you. His focus right now is this. Us. The Hilltop. This isn't your battle."

"Our weapons?" Daryl asked.

"You'll get them when you leave. No offense, but it wouldn't look very good for me to be handing out weapons to a couple of strangers. Not after what we've been through. They're yours. You're welcome to them. Just not inside the walls. Not now." Daryl nodded then, casting a glance at Carol. "You two go on and get settled. We'll be back shortly."

"Thanks," Carol said tiredly. "Thank you." She felt a sting in her neck then and gently rubbed her fingers over it.

"I'll get you a salve for that. The ache will go away in no time."

"It better," Daryl bit out unexpectedly, getting an eyebrow raise from Carol and a knowing look from Morgan. "Shouldn't go 'round sticking people with needles."

"I think I got the better deal, actually," Carol replied, gently placing her hand on the back of Daryl's head. He winced at the ache there.

"Let's get these two some more grub," Tara offered, nodding toward the door. Morgan followed her, leaving Carol and Daryl in silence.

"You can have first go of the shower, if ya want," Daryl offered.

"You go ahead," Carol said with a little smile. "Wash some of that blood out of your hair."

"Shit," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head again. "That hurt."

"I think they're being honest," Carol said softly. "As honest as they can be. We're the ones that probably look a little suspicious. We're strangers to them, won't tell them where we came from."

"Ain't our place to tell. Can't go givin' away our location to folks who got an enemy hell-bent on killin' 'em." He took a step toward Carol, and she sucked in a sharp breath the moment his fingers were on her neck. "C'mere. Let me see." He pressed his fingers gently against her chin, tilting her head so he could examine her neck. "Looks ok."

"I'm fine," she said softly. "I promise." She placed her hand over his, and she felt a blush fill her cheeks. Daryl's gaze redirected to her lips, and she felt a shiver rush down her spine. "Are _you_ ok?"

"Ready to get the hell outta here," he admitted.

"And then what?" Carol asked quietly. "Do we keep hunting? Do we go home? Do we tell them about this place?"

"We'll figure it out when we get there, I s'pose." He felt her hand slip into his as he moved to walk past her. She squeezed his fingers, and he traced his thumb over her knuckles.

"And then what?" she asked softly, again.

"Don't know," he admitted.

"You kissed me," she said quietly. She turned toward him, keeping their hands linked, bowing her head slightly. She stared at her feet briefly before chancing a glance up at his face. "Was that just because you were glad to see me? Or was it…what did it mean?"

"Meant I been wantin' to do that for a long time, and I ain't never got the nerve." He swallowed hard, tracing circular patters along the back of her hand. "Bein' away from you, not knowin' if you were ok, it was all I could think about. Couldn't stop wonderin' if you were ok."

"Daryl," she said softly, moving her hand up to brushing over his cheek. "I hope you know how much you mean to me." She leaned into him then, pushing up on her tiptoes to bring their lips together. He unlinked their hands and brought his arms around her, pulling her close before moving his hands down to rest at her hips. She sighed softly against his mouth, opening up as he traced his tongue along her bottom lip.

He tasted so good. Felt like heaven. She grasped the neck of his shirt with her fingers, tugging a little as she bunched the fabric in her hand. And then came a knock at the door, and they pulled apart, both with crimson tints to their cheeks.

"Go on. Get yourself a shower. I'll get the food," Carol grinned. Daryl didn't let her go right away. Instead, he bumped his forehead against hers, letting out a slow breath, savoring the moment, knowing she was safe in his arms.

"Room service," came a joking call from Tara on the other side.

"Better get that," she murmured, still gripping his shirt in her hand. Finally, she let go, and reluctantly, he let her go. He kept an eye on her as she moved to the front door, eyeing Tara when it swung open. When he saw the tray she pushed over the threshold, he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind himself.

"Plenty of food here. Oh! And here's that map Daryl wanted. And the salve for your neck. Sorry about that. Again."

"It's ok," Carol assured her. "I'm still here, so I'm going to consider this a good day."

"And the best part…" Tara lifted two packs off of the bottom of the cart. "Your clothes. And your weapons." She handed Carol both crossbows before giving over the hand guns and knives. Carol quickly set the items aside, grateful to have them close just in case. "Your best bet's to leave just before sunup. Snipers will pick off any close roamers, and you two should be set. Morgan's also offering a couple of horses to get you both back home safely. A peace offering, just to let you and your people know that we just want to be left alone. We don't want trouble."

"That's very kind," Carol said softly.

"Or you could stay. You could."

"We have obligations back home. We have people to think about. We couldn't just leave."

"I'm just saying," Tara offered. "I mean, it's not like we're forcing you to stay. We're not going to put bullets in your backs the second you leave." She caught Carol's glance. "I probably shouldn't have said that. Isn't helping with the trust factor much, huh?" Carol gave her a nervous smile. "But you have the advantage here. We don't have a damned clue where you two came from. You know where we are, and this map will lead you back home. We're putting a lot of trust into you not to lead your people to us."

"Our people are good people."

"Yeah, that's what The Governor said once."

"How do we know you won't send scouts to track us?"

"Trust. It's a pretty powerful thing," Tara pointed out. The water pipes groaned and shuddered as the water was forced out of the faucet in the bathroom. Carol turned her gaze toward the door before looking back at Tara.

"What made you think he's my husband?" Carol asked softly. Tara quirked a brow.

"He's not?" she asked. Carol shook her head.

"We've been best friends since we were children. Almost inseparable. So what was it?"

"The way he threw himself over you at the house? The way he fought when we pulled him away with you? We all just thought…you know?" Tara looked toward the bathroom door. "He protected you like you were more important to him than oxygen. You were it. He didn't care about himself. He just wanted to keep you safe." She saw the blush in Carol's cheeks, and she cleared her throat. "Anyway, enjoy your dinner. I live two houses down. Morgan's at the end of the corner. I'd stick to the two of us right now. The others are a little wary. You know, you being strangers and all."

"Oh. Alright," Carol said slowly. "Are we in danger? Will your people…"

"No," Tara said quietly. "Our people respect Morgan. He doesn't think of himself as the leader, but he really is. I mean, people look up to him. He's kept things together. He's lost a lot, and he could have broken, but he didn't. He's kept this town together, and people respect that. If he says you're alright, they'll leave you alone." Tara stepped out the door and turned. "Let me know if you need anything. I'm a pretty light sleeper, and so is my girlfriend, so one of us is bound to hear you if you knock. Have a good night." She gave Carol a little wave.

"Thanks, Tara," Carol replied with a nod before closing the door and leaning back against it. She closed her eyes, sighing heavily before yawning. Then the bathroom door cracked open, and Daryl came walking out wearing nothing but a towel.

Carol felt her heart begin to pick up speed in her chest, and she swallowed hard, unable to help herself as her gaze wondered down his chiseled torso, over the patch of hair that disappeared below the towel. He raised his arm above his head, running a smaller towel over his hair as the rogue water drops rolled down his shoulders and chest.

"S'all yours," he promised. "Water ain't too hot, but it's somethin'."

"Ok," she murmured. She cleared her throat and grabbed his pack, stepping toward him, feeling a little like things were moving in slow motion.

"Tara brought our things. Clothes."

"Thanks," he murmured, taking the bag from her, fingers brushing over her arm. Carol shivered at the sensation.

"I should…just…" She motioned toward the bathroom. His gaze locked on hers, and she felt like her body was on fire. Taking a deep breath, she ducked around him, grabbed her own pack and hurried to the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind herself. Oh, this was going to be interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 _"Well? What do you think?"_

 _"Why do you care?" Daryl grumbled, passing Carol a bottle of water as they sat across from each other in the old watchtower._

 _"Oh, shut up," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "You're my best friend, and I tell you everything."_

 _"Don't wanna hear about the guys tryin' to get into your pants," Daryl muttered._

 _"Well, you told me about Lori hitting on you last week."_

 _"Just 'cause she caught Rick makin' eyes at Michonne," he muttered. "Don't want Lori. She don't want me. She's with Rick, and she was just tryin' to make him jealous."_

 _"You've done it though, right?" He blushed then, ducking his head. At nineteen, he had already heard most of the guys his age talking about their conquests. Hell, Rick and Lori were already married with a baby and already talking about having more kids. The fact that Lori had flirted with him last week was something he was certainly willing and hoping to forget, because he knew that she loved Rick and that Rick loved her, and most importantly, Rick was his friend. Still, he honestly wasn't sure he'd have known what to do even if he had wanted to take her up on the offer._

 _"Don't wanna talk about this."_

 _"Daryl, come on. I don't have anybody to talk to about this. I asked Michonne, and all she could tell me was that it could be really good if it was done right." Carol sighed with exasperation. "And Ed wants to take me out."_

 _"Ed's an asshole."_

 _"I know, but he's interested."_

 _"Tell me you ain't that damned stupid," Daryl huffed. "The way he looks at you, yeah, maybe he wants to take you out, but he wants other shit, too, and how do you know he ain't just gonna throw you away like garbage when he's done with you?"_

 _"I don't want Ed, Daryl, but he's the only guy that…and it would just be sex, anyway."_

 _"You wanna have sex with Ed?"_

 _"No," she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest. "But maybe just to get it over with."_

 _"I'll beat the shit out of him." Daryl stood then, balling his fists at the sides of his legs, and Carol's brows raised in surprised. She stood quickly._

 _"Stop! You will not. Daryl, calm down."_

 _"He's an asshole. I've heard him talk about you, say things to the other guys. Trust me, you don't wanna be doin' nothin' with him."_

 _"What about you? Who'd you do it with?"_

 _"None of your business," he muttered, ducking his head and moving toward the ladder._

 _"But you've done it, right?"_

 _"'Course." He was not convincing._

 _"Oh my God. You haven't. Have you?" She came to stand in front of him._

 _"Leave me alone, will ya?"_

 _"Daryl, it's ok. I haven't either, so that's…that's good. I was just coming to you, because I thought, well…"_

 _"What made ya think I have?"_

 _"Look at you," she said, cheeks flushing pink. "I mean, I just figured. That's why I wanted to come to you. For advice."_

 _"Well, I ain't got none for ya. Shit, I mean, if ya wanna fuck Ed Peletier, then don't let me stop you. Just don't see what the big fuckin' deal is. If sex is all you want, then you go right ahead." He was angry now, and Carol swallowed hard, taking a step toward him._

 _"Daryl, I'm, I wasn't laughing at you. I'm just surprised."_

 _"Well, surprise," he muttered. He started down the ladder._

 _"Hey!" she called. He looked up at her, peeking out from the mop of hair that fell into his eyes. "We're ok, right?"_

 _"Yeah," he replied. He started down the ladder and hesitated, looking back up at her. "Hey." She glanced at him. "For what it's worth, you could do a lot better'n Ed Peletier." He started back down._

 _"Hey," she called out to him. He looked up, just as she crouched down to lean over the doorway. She placed a kiss on his cheek and smiled. "Thanks."_

 _"For what?"_

 _"Just…thanks," she replied with a shrug. He eyed her for a moment before shaking his head. Women. He didn't think he'd ever figure them out._

 _..._

She came out of the bathroom with a fog of steam trailing behind her. She wore a grey shirt and a pair of shorts underneath. Her hair was slicked back and dripping, and Daryl was sitting at a small table, mid-bite when she came out, arms up and drying off her hair just enough that the shirt lifted to expose the creamy skin just below her belly button. He paused, unable to take his eyes off of the patch of skin, until she moved again, and he saw the outline of her nipples through the shirt. _Fuck._

"Can you help me with this?" she asked, moving over to pick up the salve Tara had brought for her. She extended her arm out, and he took the container into his hands. "I just want to make sure I get it covered."

"Sure." His voice was strained, and she turned around, shivering as she felt his warm hand brush her neck just behind her ear.

"Still hurts?"

"It's tender," she said softly. "Just be gentle." He felt his heart skip a beat, as she looked over her shoulder at him, sucking her bottom lip just slightly between her teeth. In that moment, he was convinced he was either dead or dreaming, because there was no way in hell this was really happening.

He stuck his finger into the salve before gently slathering it over the small sore where she'd been drugged. She let out a small moan, and he pulled his hand back.

"I hurt you?"

"It's ok."

"It's bruised. Gonna be sore for a few days." He quickly put the cap back on the container, tossing it down onto the table.

"I'm ok. I promise," she assured him, sensing the rising anger in him again. "They were just being careful."

"Yeah, well they can keep their hands to themselves." Carol smiled at that.

"Aw, jealous, Pookie?"

"Maybe," he muttered without thinking. Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise, and she couldn't help but smile at the flush of red that filled his cheeks.

"Come on," she urged.

"Where we goin'?"

"To bed," she replied, taking his hand. He hesitated.

"Uh, Carol?"

"Don't worry," she smirked. "I'm not planning to take your innocence. Not yet, anyway." She saw him swallow the lump in his throat. "I'm tired, and there's one bed, and I want you close. Is that ok?" Daryl nodded dumbly, following her to the bed. She crawled in first, and he just stood there, looking at her. "Aren't you coming?"

"Uh. Yeah," he replied, walking stiffly around the bed to get in on the other side. He lay there, head back against the pillow, and she turned to lay on her side, propping her head against her angled arm.

"Has there been anybody? I know we…tease each other sometimes. But, I haven't…and you…"

"No," he choked out. He felt like his skin was on fire, and if there was a big enough rock nearby, he'd surely crawl under it and die.

"Ok," she said quietly, eyeing him. "So we're on the same page."

"If by same page, you mean not havin' a fuckin' clue, then you got it," he replied. Carol laughed at that, and she leaned over, pressing her lips against his. He swallowed hard before opening up to the kiss, moaning when her tongue dipped into his mouth.

"Well, we know where everything goes, right?" she asked. "It can't be that hard."

"Beg to differ," he groaned, as his dick hardened in his pants. Carol gasped softly when her arm brushed over his thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the ceiling, praying that if they were about to do what he thought they were going to do, it didn't end in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing her lips against his ear.

"Don't," he said with a shake of his head. "S'alright."

"This is ok?" she asked, gently moving her hand down his chest and stomach.

"Yeah. It's good," he replied. Carol smiled a little, biting her lip as she explored his bare chest, stopping at the waist of his pants. She watched his Adam's apple bob slightly when he swallowed, and she pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Why?" he asked, against his dick's better judgment.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Last year, ya asked me about…you know, Ed."

"Oh," she said with a blush. "I never did. I never really intended to. I just…I wanted to talk to you. I was hoping you…you'd maybe fly into a jealous rage or something, and I think you kind of did. But, I was hoping you'd…you'd make a move. But you never did."

"Didn't know what the hell to do. I wanted to. Just wasn't sure you wanted me to."

"We're a mess, aren't we?" she laughed, kissing his shoulder.

"Think so," he murmured, shivering as her fingers traced circles over his chest.

"I never…I mean, I wanted you. I've wanted you for a while now. I just…we've been friends forever, and it scared me a little." She took a slow, deep breath, moving her hand down his stomach then, keeping her eyes on his as she pressed her hand gently against the bulge in his pants. Her eyes widened as she felt the size of him, the rigidness there that seemed to grow harder the longer her hand pressed there.

"Fuck," he hissed out. She blushed, watching the way his hips bucked and how he squirmed as she touched him, and then she moved her hand away. "Why'd you stop?"

"You want me to keep going?" she asked. He said nothing. He just nodded, and she blushed, kissing him again. "Will you touch me?" He blinked rapidly for a moment, as she took his hand in hers and guided it to her hip. "I want you to touch me, Daryl. I want this." She swallowed hard then, watching as his lips parted, and his tongue darted out. "I was terrified. I was scared I'd lose you. But right now? We're safe. And I don't want to go another minute without you know…" Before she could finish, his lips were on hers, and he was pulling her on top of him, hands ghosting over her ribs, shaking like crazy as she straddled his hips, thighs spreading as she settled against him.

She pulled back from the kiss long enough to see the desire in his eyes, and it was then that she knew. She'd been waiting for him and he for her, and she couldn't think of a better time than now to let him know exactly how much she loved him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Shaking hands, trembling lips, tongues ghosting over sweat-slick skin as they undressed one another, hands grasping at flesh and memorizing curves and lines like they had to make it count, like they may never get another chance.

He rolled her onto her back, hand roving up her side, thumb brushing over the pert nipple as she arched into his hand, gasping as he explored her. He'd never done this, never even attempted it, but he'd thought about it thousands of times, wondered how he could make her feel, how she would sound if he made her feel good. He couldn't take his eyes off of her face, watching as her eyes rolled back as his thumb teased the nipple again.

She was an angel, sprawled out on the bed beneath him, against the crisp-white sheets, her auburn-brown hair slicked back, still wet from the shower, forehead beading with perspiration. Her lips were pink, plump from his kisses, and a red flush covered her chest. Her legs were trembling, and his dick was aching.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please." Her hand moved between his legs, stroking his dick a bit clumsily with inexperienced fingers. He hissed out a sigh against her mouth, pressing his forehead against hers as she stilled her motions.

"Stop," he urged. "Wait." She drew her hand away, and he grabbed her behind the knees, lifting her legs up, draping them over his hips as he pushed against the apex of her thighs. "Won't last."

"It's ok," she promised, gently stroking his hair. "I just want you. I'm ready." He moved to suckle at her neck again, shaking hand slipping between her legs, feeling her wet heat, and he fumbled, blindly probing her, until she began to squirm. Her hand moved to his, guiding him where she needed to be touched, and when he slowed his movements and made them count, she began to cry out softly against his shoulder. "Like that. Oh…Daryl. Yes." He pushed a finger in, experimentally, and she squeezed around him. She cried out softly as he pumped his hand against her, adding another finger slowly, feeling her body adjust to the change. She was whimpering again, and she began to use her fingers, circling quickly around a pert little nub. He stopped her then, working her clit himself, and her legs began to shake as she arched against the mattress. And then he felt the flood of warmth against his hand as she came, and he watched her slump against the mattress, covered in sweat, panting, eyes closed as she came down from her high.

"Hey," he murmured, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "You ok?" She smiled, biting her lip before her eyelids fluttered open.

"You're amazing," she whispered, running knotting her fingers in his hair, pulling him down on her, kissing him hungrily as he pushed against her, the head of his dick stretching her just enough to have her gasping against his mouth. "Daryl. Oh…oh!" She screwed her eyes shut tightly, digging her fingers into the back of his neck and into his shoulders, whimpering at the burning sensation, the feeling of being stretched and filled as he slowly slid into her. And then stopped, looking down between them to see a faint trace of blood as he began to pull away.

"God, I hurt you," he choked out, pulling back as she held onto him tightly.

"No. No. Please," she whimpered. "Please. Don't…don't stop."

"You're bleedin'."

"It's ok. It's ok. It happens sometimes, the first time. Please. Don't leave. Don't stop." Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, fingers finding purchase on his biceps as he stared down at her, concern and fear in his eyes. "Please. Please. It's ok. I want this."

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he panted, leaning his forehead against hers. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"It's ok," she whispered. "Just go slow." He pressed his mouth against hers then, gently easing back into her, holding her as she trembled and cried against his lips.

The warmth of her, the strength of her walls, the sensation of her wrapped around him was almost too much. He braced himself, one hand against the mattress as the other hand cradled her jaw. He ran his thumb over her mouth, whispering softly against her ear as he settled his hips against hers.

"You ok?" he whispered, kissing her ear, stroking her cheek, trying to think of anything, everything but what her muscles were doing to him, what her wet heat was doing as he lay fully inside of her.

"I'm ok. I'm ok," she panted, opening her eyes to look into his, to let him know it was true. She took a deep breath and ran her hand along his chest, fighting to be brave as they took this next step together.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Are you ok?" She ran her fingers along his forehead, gathering the moisture from the sweat that beaded there. He turned his head, pressing his mouth against the center of her palm, kissing her there.

"I'm good," he promised. And then he was kissing her again, hips shifting just slightly as he began to move, slowly, each stroke met with the involuntary fluttering of her tight walls, and then his mouth was on her neck, and she was moaning now, hands gripping his arms as he trailed his mouth down to suck a nipple between her teeth. The moment his tongue swirled the peak, she cried out, head thrashing back against the pillow. He looked up at her, watching the flush fill her cheeks, and then he was teasing the other nipple, sucking gently to get the same response from her.

"Touch me," she urged, trailing her hand down her stomach as if showing him the way. And then his hand was over hers, gently linking their fingers together before he let go and began to caress the soft curls between her legs, struggling to keep himself composed as he moved inside of her, as she squeezed her walls around him and pulled her legs around his hips. He was hungry for her, drunk on the sensation of being surrounded by her, buried in her. He'd never known anything like this, and in that moment, he knew exactly what it was those guys had been talking about. The feeling of being wrapped up with someone, so intimately connected with them, as if only two people existed and nothing else mattered? Well, it was exhilarating. Intoxicating.

And before he wanted it to be, it was ending. He felt the familiar tightening as her muscles continued to squeeze him, and she was crying out, a flood of warmth surrounding him as he picked up the pace.

"Daryl," she cried out. "Oh God. Oh…" She threw her head back, mouth gaping in a strained cry as she flew over the edge, and then he came, spilling inside of her as he collapsed, breathless on top of her.

She stroked the back of his hair, as he rested his head against her chest, and they lay together, entangled, connected, until he slipped out of her. He looked up at her then, shifting his weight so he wasn't crushing her, and he saw the way she closed her eyes, a sleepy, satisfied smile spreading over her face. And then she was laughing, and in his heart, he knew it was a happy laugh, a celebration.

"What's so funny?" he asked anyway, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched her grin widen.

"Now I get it," she laughed. "I get it."

"Get what?" he asked.

"Michonne," she said with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "She told me once that it could be great, but good came with practice."

"You sayin' it wasn't good?"

"It was good," she laughed. "And we'll be great. We have each other, right?"

"I ain't goin' nowhere," he promised. She smiled, leaning in to kiss him before he rolled to his side and brought her with him, pulling her close and stroking her hair and the backs of her shoulders. "What else did she tell ya?" He saw her hesitate. "What?"

"She said that great comes when you're with the person you love, and if you never get great, then maybe it's not meant to be, after all." She saw the smile leave his face then, but she quickly leaned in for one more kiss. "And we'll have great. I feel great. Because I do love you."

"You do?" he asked quietly.

"I do. I have. For a long time. And the idea of losing you, it…" Her eyes teared up in that moment, and he quickly silenced her with a kiss.

"Hey. I ain't goin' nowhere, 'cause I ain't willin' to lose you. I love you too, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get us home. We're gonna go home, and we're gonna be alright. It's us. You and me, right?"

"You and me," she said softly, closing her eyes as he kissed her again. "We're gonna be alright."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 _"Daryl, will you marry me?" nine-year-old Carol Mason asked, piercing blue eyes sparkling in the hot summer sun._

 _"What?" the boy asked, sputtering and coughing on a mouthful of water, balking at the young girl across from him._

 _"Will you marry me?"_

 _"The heck you talkin' about? We ain't old enough to get married. 'Sides, I couldn't marry you."_

 _"Well, why not?" Carol asked, folding her arms across her chest._

 _"Well, 'cause you ain't s'posed to marry girls that are your friends."_

 _"Says who?"_

 _"I dunno. Folks." He shrugged and splashed her with water. She coughed, blowing the water out of her nose and wiping her eyes with her pruny-fingertips. Some of the other children splashed around nearby, but Carol and Daryl, as usual, had managed to wander off alone together. They were two peas in a pod, inseparable._

 _"Daryl Dixon, you might just change your mind one day."_

 _"What makes you so sure?" he asked, ducking under the water to wet his hair before breaking the surface again, shaking his head like an old dog. She laughed as the water sprayed her face._

 _"Because. Someday you might want to get married, and there just might not be anymore girls left. And then you'll be begging me to marry you."_

 _"Doubt it," he smirked. "Don't have to get married. I like bein' alone. Don't want to girl tellin' me what to do or naggin' me. You're a good nagger. Guess you'll be a good wife then."_

 _"Daryl Dixon, that might be the meanest thing you ever said!"_

 _"I didn't mean it, Carol. Promise." She slipped under the water for just a moment, and he reached out instinctively to steady her and pull her up. "I guess marryin' you wouldn't be so bad. I mean, we are friends."_

 _"Best friends," Carol said with a nod._

 _"Alright, say we don't get married. Say we don't find nobody we like enough to marry by the time we're grownups."_

 _"Say we don't?" Carol asked with raised eyebrows._

 _"Well, then we'll marry each other."_

 _"You mean it?"_

 _"Sure," he shrugged. "Hell, I'll even swear on it."_

 _"Daryl, that's a bad word," Carol hissed._

 _"Alright. C'mon, we'll swear on it." He pushed his wet hair out of his face and spat into his hand. Carol crinkled her nose at him before he nodded at her. With a roll of her eyes, she spat into her own hand, and they slapped their palms together in a handshake. "Alright. Let's race to the other side of the pond, see who wins?"_

 _"Ok!" she giggled, ducking under the water to get a head start. And then the race was on._

...

She honestly wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Given the way some of the women back in Alexandria talked about sex, she expected that she'd feel different, like a whole new person. Some of the women talked about sex like it was the most important thing. More important than water or food or anything else. And boy how they would talk about it. Carol had already heard more about Rick Grimes' penis and stamina than she'd ever cared to hear about, but the women liked to talk, and she had heard her share of talk from the men, too.

She couldn't help but smile as she sat across the room watching him sleep, chest moving up and down evenly with each breath. He looked peaceful and exhausted, and she wasn't sure how he felt about everything that had happened. She didn't know if things would be awkward in the morning or if she should expect another round as soon as they were both awake. She was a little overwhelmed, and she hated to even think it, but part of her was a little sad.

This was Daryl. They'd been best friends for so long, and she'd loved him for such a long time now. Now that they'd taken their relationship further past what either of them had ever expected, she couldn't help but worry that maybe this would change too much between them. She didn't want to lose her best friend. She didn't want to lose that solid connection, that strong urge to talk to him first before anyone else if she had a problem. She still wanted to climb into the old watch tower and listen to him read. She wanted all of it, and she wanted this. This feeling like her heart was so full of love that it could burst at any moment. This feeling of being so loved, so completely loved by him in a way she never thought possible. She was happy, and she was scared, and all she wanted to do was slip back into bed with him, curl up against him and sleep knowing she was safe for at least one more night. And that was exactly what she was going to do as soon as she finished the bitter drink she'd woken up in a panic to mix up.

Daryl shifted, yawning as he peered across the dim room, where Carol was sitting with a steaming cup in her hands. He narrowed his eyes, glancing at her as she sat there wearing nothing with a sheet wrapped around herself.

"You can't sleep?" he asked tiredly.

"I…forgot something," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "Go back to sleep. I'm alright."

"S'wrong?" he asked, sitting up, pulling the sheet around his waist as he scooted to the edge of the bed and flipped on the bedside table lamp.

"It's an herb. Michonne gave it to me." Daryl furrowed his brows and stood, keeping one hand on the sheet, wrapping it around his hips and walking over to stand behind her. He leaned down, sniffing the cup, and he coughed.

"Smells like shit."

"Doesn't taste much better," she offered.

"What's it for?"

"It's to…well, it's…" He stared at her, and she sighed. "It's to help prevent pregnancy. You know, back when our parents were kids, they had things like birth control and condoms. We're left leaving it up to Mother Nature and praying the herbs work."

"Oh," he murmured, clearing his throat. "I…she give you a lot of them herbs? I mean, we could go again if you want. You know, since we're both awake and all…"

"Daryl!" she laughed, nearly dropping her brew as she swatted at his chest. He smirked and kissed the back of her neck. She moaned softly, closing her eyes before taking another sip of the bitter herb. He rested his chin on her shoulder, hands ghosting up her arms as she sighed contentedly.

"You feelin' ok?"

"I feel good," she said softly. "A little sore. A little stiff. Slightly boneless. Good." She smiled wider when he tucked his arms under her breasts, leaning over her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You comin' back to bed?"

"In a minute," she promised. "Go on. Get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." Daryl nodded then, and Carol turned her head, brushing her lips against his. He headed back to bed a few moments later, and Carol finished down the brew, washing up the cup in the sink before trudging back to bed, slipping beneath the sheets. He turned then, spooning himself against her, nuzzling the spot between her shoulder blades as his hand splayed against her stomach. She smiled, skin tingling all over where he touched her, and she sighed contentedly and let sleep take her under.

...

"Get up. Daryl!" Carol shook his shoulder, and he sucked in a sharp breath, rolling over and sitting up in the bed. Carol reached for the bedside table lamp and flicked on the light.

"S'wrong?"

"Listen," she whispered. They sat still for a moment, listening to the sounds of the crickets outside. And then there was a gunshot and a slight vibration.

"Shit," he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Without further words, they both got out of bed, dressing and preparing their weapons. By the time Carol slid her knife into the sheath, there was a pounding at her door. Daryl took three quick strides to the door, opening it to find Morgan breathless, sweating, gasping for air. He leaned against the doorway, gathering his words.

"What's going on, Morgan?" Carol asked, slipping into the doorway next to Daryl.

"We've got a problem." He looked back and forth between them and nodded toward the gate. "Come with me." Carol and Daryl quickly fell in line behind Morgan, hurrying toward the gate as people scurried to and fro with packs on their shoulder. Everyone had a weapon in one hand, while some held a child's hand in the other. Babies were crying, and frightened, hushed murmurs rose up in the cool night air like ghosts in the mist, and as Carol looked around, she shivered, as if her blood had begun to run cold.

And then they were climbing up into one of the watch towers, where Tara and another woman about her age with long, dark hair and a steady hand were shooting over the gate. Carol flinched as Tara swung around to face them quickly, eyes wild with fear.

"There's too many," she panted. "They're going to take the whole fucking wall down."

"They aren't taking this wall," Morgan swore, grabbing Tara's gun and firing three careful shots. Daryl moved between him and the other woman, peering down over the gate to see what all the fuss was about.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, as the floodlights at the gate shone down onto only a portion of the crowd outside.

"What is it?" Carol asked, not exactly certain she was ready to know. Daryl waved her over, fear tightening his chest as he took her hand in his.

"Whole fuckin' herd of them things." He pointed out past where the light shone, where it seemed like thousands of walkers were trailing for miles.

"Oh my God," she gasped. The young woman went to aim again.

"No," Morgan warned. "Save your ammo. Wait."

"Sir, we _have_ to do something," the girl insisted.

"Rosita. I'm telling you to wait." It was then that Daryl realized the shots had stopped, and the only sound was that of the walkers clamoring against the walls, all moans and fleshy bone scraping the steel gates. Morgan grabbed a flashlight from his pocket and began to flash it a series of long and short flashes. And then, somewhere nearby, someone else began to flash their light at him. And this proceeded all along the wall at each tower.

"You're really bringing in the archers now?"

"We have more arrows to waste than bullets," Morgan replied. He glanced at Carol and Daryl. "You've got bows. You any good?"

"I learned from the best," Carol piped up. She stepped up to the front between Rosita and Daryl and let a bolt fly, hitting a walker dead center in the forehead.

"She'll do," Morgan replied with a smirk. "You two got this?"

"We got it," Daryl said with a nod. Then, from every tower, arrows began to fly into the crowd, and for a brief moment, Carol felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. It was like nothing she'd ever witnessed before. Never in her twenty years had she ever seen a herd of this size. It was terrifying and fascinating all at the same time.

Just then, Tara grabbed Rosita's hand.

"They're coming," she said quickly.

"Who?" Carol asked, eyes widening as she loaded another bolt.

"The Dream Team," Rosita smirked, getting out of the way as a young Asian man and a bald black man came running in with bows and arrows.

"Glenn, T-Dog, this is Daryl and Carol. They're on our side," Morgan announced, turning toward Daryl and Carol. "Right?"

"Right," Daryl grunted, turning to let a bolt fly into the herd of walkers. "You got more of these?"

"We've got plenty," Rosita offered. "We've got you covered." With that, she and Tara left for the armory, while Glenn and T-Dog settled in with Carol and Daryl to help defend their part of the wall. The tower groaned and shook as walkers piled at the sides, threatening a breach.

"You guys ready for some fun?" Glenn asked with a grin, glancing at T-Dog. "C'mon, T. Let's show them how it's done."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _"Nobody ever teach you how to fight? Your daddy? Your brother? Wait, they're dead," Ed Peletier said with a laugh as he delivered another punch to Daryl Dixon's gut. It wasn't the usual schoolyard bullying. Ed had followed Daryl to a far corner of Alexandria, where there was nothing but fields and animals grazing. And then he'd made his move, unprovoked. Daryl wheezed, falling to his knees, feeling the taste of bile in the back of his throat. He willed himself not to puke. "I saw you looking at Carol Mason. Saw you looking when she didn't know." Ed leaned hard on Daryl's shoulder, pushing him into the dirt. Daryl kicked his leg out, balancing himself and shoving Ed. Hard._

 _"Get off me!" He pushed Peletier into the grass, crawling over him, punching him right in the nose. Ed smiled up at him, laughing as a stream of blood spurted from his own nose._

 _"You think she wants anything to do with a sad sack like you? You're nothing, Dixon. She's your friend? More like your sister. She follows you around, you protect her. But when it comes down to it, she needs a_ real _man." Ed shoved Daryl back, and the two scrambled to stand. "She's gonna be eighteen soon. Gonna be needing somebody to show her how to use what the good Lord gave her, if you know what I mean."_

 _"Stay the fuck away from her," Daryl growled, balling his fists at his sides._

 _"You're just a boy, Dixon. Just a boy who woulda made a move a long time ago if he knew what was good for him. You're not a man." He sneered at Daryl, stepping toward him, towering over him. "I'll have her on her knees and begging for it." In that moment, Daryl saw red. His heart thundered loudly in his ears, and he felt every ounce of strength winding through his muscles, surging. And then he was charging at him, head-butting Ed Peletier square in the gut, sending him flying back against the side of an old tree. Ed lay there, gasping when the air was knocked from his lungs. Daryl stood over him. In that moment, he wanted to do the worst to Ed Peletier, but he knew that if he did, she'd never look at him the same, and he could never tell her he'd done it for her, because of her. No._

 _He felt the anger begin to recede, and Ed began to sit up, finding the air filling his lungs again._

 _"What's wrong, Dixon?" Ed asked, as Daryl began to walk away. "Can't even fight me like a man? Can't say I'm surprised. Hey!" Daryl kept walking. "Coward!"_

...

The sun began to rise over the valley, shedding light on the true magnitude of the battle they were facing. The walkers were coming from everywhere, and when one crumpled and fell still, another fell on top of it, and Daryl's eyes and nose stung from the scent of it, the putrid rot of human flesh as skulls were split open and blood freely, staining the green grass red.

Carol's shoulders slumped as she fired off shots between T-Dog and Daryl. He lowered his weapon, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Take a break," he said quickly.

"I'm fine."

"Go on. We got this. Take a break." Carol opened her mouth to protest but said nothing.

"We're tagging out," Glenn hollered to T-Dog. Daryl glanced at Glenn. "We tag out. We'll send in replacements so we can rest."

"I'm good," Daryl said, shooting off another bolt that landed right through a walker's eye.

"You might be, but you're still resting. "T-Dog. Let's go." T-Dog nodded, putting down his weapon. Daryl held fast to his own but followed the men out of the tower. Carol was leaning, breathlessly against the wall down below when he climbed down, and he brushed his hand over her shoulder.

"You ok?"

"I'm good," she promised, watching as Tara, Rosita and a couple of young men scurried up the latter, each carrying a grenade in their hands.

"Shit, let's go!" T-Dog hollered. "Everybody away from the wall!" Everybody who was standing down below began to scurry back toward the center of town. Daryl grabbed Carol's hand, leading her with him as the first explosion went off.

In the center of town, people were coming and going with weapons, more weapons than Carol or Daryl had ever seen behind Alexandria's walls. It was a comfort to know that this place had a whole arsenal of weapons to use against the walkers, but at the same time, it was startling to realize how underprepared their own home was against something like this.

"Daryl," she panted, sitting down on a porch stoop, "we have to get home. We have to warn them about this Governor. About…about everything. They have no idea. They've never seen anything like this herd before." Another explosion. Carol jumped, and Daryl put his hands on her shoulders. He looked around before nodding toward the small apartment they'd stayed in the night before.

"C'mon." He took her hand again, leading her inside, and when he shut the door, she began to pace. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head already. "You gotta breathe."

"I'm breathing," she promised. "But we can't do this. We can't stay here. We have to go. We have to go home."

"We will. We'll go. But I ain't exactly lookin' forward to gettin' through that crowd to do it, are you? When the threat's over, we'll go."

"What if they break the walls down? What if…Daryl, I just…"

"Breathe. Carol." He crossed the room to put his hands on her shoulders, stilling her. "Hey. We're gonna make it through this. We're gonna fight, and then we're gonna leave, and we're gonna get home. And if this Governor finds our home, we'll fight him."

"You heard Morgan. He won't stop."

"He probably don't even know about Alexandria. Let's focus on right now. Worryin' about what happens tomorrow ain't gonna help us fight this fuckin' herd." Carol's eyes flashed up to his, and she took a deep breath.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just…everything we've learned, everything we've been training for. I feel like we're out of our element here."

"We're gonna survive. We got this, alright? We're gonna be ok." Carol nodded.

"We're ok," she breathed, keeping her eyes soley on his. "We can do this."

"You ready to go back out?"

"Yes. We can do this," she repeated. He gave her hands a squeeze. "I can do this. I learned from the best, didn't I?"

"Damn right, you did," he snorted, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon. Let's go show 'em what we got, huh?" She gave his hand a squeeze and nodded. And then they were rushing outside and back toward the wall. There would be no backing down today. This was the biggest battle they'd ever seen, and they weren't going to give up without a fight. This was what they'd been training for, what they'd been warned about since childhood. They could beat this, and they could fight like hell. And they would survive.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 _"Would ya stop followin' me, already?" Daryl asked, turning around to see Carol stop about six feet behind him, not even making an attempt to hide the fact that she'd been trailing him for fifteen minutes._

 _"Where are you going?" she asked, cocking her head to the side._

 _"None of yer business. You're just a kid."_

 _"Yeah, and so are you. And I'm older anyhow," she shot back. Daryl rolled his eyes and stalked over toward her, hands balled into fists at his sides. "What're you gonna do? Hit a girl?"_

 _"Wouldn't ever hit a girl, but I'm sure gonna tell yer mama you been followin' me."_

 _"I'm bored," she said with a sigh. "Don't like playing with the other girls, except Michonne, and her mama kept her home sick today."_

 _"Well, I ain't aimin' to play."_

 _"Well, what are you doing?"_

 _"M'goin' fishin down by the Greene's place. They got some good catfish, and I was gonna catch some for supper."_

 _"Can I fish? I love to fish."_

 _"You don't know how," Daryl laughed._

 _"Well, I would if you'd teach me," she replied, hands on her hips, jaw jutting out in defiance. Daryl sighed and shook his head._

 _"Go home 'fore your mama starts hollerin' for ya. Ain't lookin' to get skinned alive for leadin' you too far from home."_

 _"Fine," she huffed, starting back toward the main road. She walked for a few minutes before turning around to see he had gone back on his way. With a mischievous grin, she started following him again, better this time, making sure to hide every time he turned to make sure she wasn't following him. She would learn to track, and she'd be just as good as him. Someday._

...

The grenades thrown out into the sea of walkers had taken care of a big part of the herd, but it had done nothing to stop the walkers out of range or the walkers jamming up against the Hilltop walls.

"Somebody's gotta get out there, start clearin' walkers in the back," Rosita growled, kicking her booted foot hard against the tower wall. Morgan panted, sliding down to sit on the floor of the watch tower, crumpled over in exhaustion. Tara knelt down next to him, gripping his arm.

"You ok?"

"Fine. Just tired. They're coming from everywhere, like every last goddamned one of 'em is comin' right at us. Christ, I've never seen anything like it in my whole life." Morgan rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

Daryl felt Carol's hand against his back, and he chewed his lip, needing to feel better than helpless. He leaned out the window as another grenade went off several yards away. He flinched, reeling himself back in as blood and bone began to fly.

"You got a way out the back?" he offered. He felt Carol tense next to him.

"Sure, but the gate's probably all but rusted to hell. Nobody ever uses it."

"Then I'll climb it," Daryl offered. "I'll go around, start weedin' through the sumbitches."

"No!" Carol bit out, hand flying to Daryl's shoulder. "That's suicide."

"She's right," Morgan panted.

"They ain't gonna stop."

"They will," Morgan said with a nod.

"Say they do," Daryl offered, "but just how much ammo are you riskin' to lose fightin' 'em?" Morgan said nothing then. "I'm a hunter. A tracker. I can get around 'em."

"Say you do," Carol spoke up. "Say you get behind them. You take one shot, and the rest are gonna come for you. No!" Daryl stared at her for a moment, a glance bordering on frustration and anger, but it faded quickly. Carol moved her hand down his arm, reaching for his hand, pulling him into the corner of the small tower. "If you do this, I'm going with you."

"Like hell you are. I made a promise to get you back safe, and I ain't riskin' that. You ain't comin' with me."

"You really think you're going to stop me?" she asked. "Daryl, it's a suicide mission. If you go, I go."

"Don't be stupid," Daryl growled.

"Then stop being stupid yourself!" she spat back. The tower grew quiet, and there was no room for anyone to pretend like they hadn't heard it. Daryl turned then, starting out of the tower and down the ladder, and Carol sighed, closing her eyes as tears stung her lashes. She started after him and felt a hand on her shoulder. Tara.

"Maybe you should let him…"

"No," Carol snapped, turning back to start down the ladder.

Daryl was halfway back to their apartment when Carol caught up with him.

"Wait!" she insisted. Daryl froze, and Carol stopped a few feet from him. "I meant it. If you go, I go. I'm not losing you. And if you're risking something, I'm risking something, too." She took a few tentative steps toward him, and he turned around. "This is what we've always done. We've always been in this together, and…"

"This ain't some kid game," Daryl replied, voice even with a shaky undertone. "You saw what we're facin'. You go out there, and…and I probably am gonna die, 'cause I'm gonna have to worry 'bout you, too."

"You don't have to worry about me, Daryl. I can take care of myself," she insisted.

"You say it, but it don't mean I ain't gonna worry. You can't change some things, and I'd be distracted. I'd do this better on my own, knowin' you're safe behind the wall." Morgan came running up then, rifle slung over his shoulder.

"If you want to hop the wall, now's the best time. Make a wide circle around, maybe a mile and hit 'em from behind. You up for it?" Morgan asked, looking back and forth between Carol and Daryl. Daryl stared at Carol, keeping his gaze fixed on hers, even when he began to speak.

"Yeah. I'm up for it."

"Let's go then. No time to waste." Morgan clapped Daryl on the shoulder, and Daryl followed after them, leaving Carol standing in the middle of the street, uncertain whether she should feel angry or relieved. The longer she stood there, the more she heard the grenades going off out front, the more she decided she was going to settle on anger. No way in hell was he going out there without her. No fucking way.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A haze of smoke snaked its way through the Hilltop, and Carol fought the stinging in her eyes and the clenching in her throat. She watched as Morgan steadied the ladder, keeping it still so Daryl could hoist himself over the wall. She felt a sick pull in her gut as he went over the wall, and she prayed he made it down safely, unscathed, and that there were no walkers waiting on the other side.

She watched as Morgan lay the old rusty ladder down in the grass, grabbed his pistol and took off back toward town. She ducked behind a wide tree, waiting until the sound of receding footsteps faded. Hoisting her crossbow on one shoulder and clenching a fistful of bolts, she quickly made sure she had her revolver and knife just in case.

The rusted ladder lay in the damp grass, and Carol grimaced as the rising sun glinted in her eyes. She knew she'd have to be careful, or he'd spot her straight away, maybe even lead her right back to the wall. She'd learned enough from him over the years that she knew how to make herself silent, how to duck for cover at a moment's notice and even how to track just a little.

With a frown, she hoisted the ladder up the wall, cringing at the grating scrape of rusted steel against rusted steel. And then she was climbing, glancing up over the top to see nothing to trees and fields. But she could see him just ducking into the tree line.

She looked down at the ground. It was a good thirteen feet or so down, and she winced at the thought of falling the wrong way, of breaking her ankle and being left to trudge through the woods, dragging a broken and useless foot behind herself.

The snap of a branch somewhere past the tree line got her focus back on track. She took a deep breath and began to hoist herself over the wall, holding onto the dull, rusted edge as she dangled herself on the other side. Her fingers popped and strained, and she groaned, letting go and falling the rest of the way, landing with a heavy thud. She winced at the sharp pain that moved through her lower back, but she got up, dusted herself off, checked her weapons and hurried into the woods after Daryl, not even bothering to cast another look back at the Hilltop. What mattered right now was keeping sight of Daryl, making certain he was alright and figuring a way out of this mess for the both of them.

...

"Come on," Rosita urged, tugging on Tara's sleeve as she leaned out the window and looked over the massive herd of walkers outside. "Tara. Babe!" Tara turned quickly at Rosita's calling. "Come on. Let's go rest."

"Do you think Daryl made it over the wall?" Tara wondered.

"He made it," Morgan said breathlessly, climbing back up into the watchtower.

"And Carol?" Rosita asked. Morgan shook his head a little.

"Daryl told her to stay," the man remarked. "You two take a break. Get something to eat. Get some water. Rest."

"Where are you going?" Tara asked, putting her hand on Morgan's arm.

"I'm going to the South wall. Keep an eye on Daryl when he makes it out of the tree line. We'll need to distract the roamers, give him a chance to get up behind 'em. I gave Daryl three grenades, told him to use 'em wisely." Tara and Rosita glanced anxiously at each other, and Morgan gave them a nod. "This'll work. It has to work. If it doesn't, he dies. Those walls are gonna come down."

"Jesus," Rosita murmured, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Go on," Morgan said, waving them off. "Get outta here for a while. Rest up. We don't need fatigued soldiers on the front lines." Tara laced her fingers with Rosita's, leading her to the doorway. When they were both on solid ground, Morgan followed after. "Someone check on Carol, please? She wasn't too happy when Daryl and I left her."

"We'll check on her," Tara promised. "Keep an eye out for Daryl." Morgan nodded and headed off, while Tara and Rosita headed toward Carol and Daryl's apartment.

"If I was her, I'd be pissed," Rosita said with a smirk, squeezing Tara's hand.

"Why's that?"

"If I got left behind by somebody I loved who was risking their life, I'd be pissed! I'd want to be out there, risking my life right beside them. Even if I had to sneak right out and…" She froze, mid-sentence, and both women looked at one another with a spark of recognition in their eyes. "Fuck."

"Carol!" Tara was the first to sprint across the street and start pounding on the door. No answer. She pounded again, and Rosita was right up behind her. "Carol!"

"Now's not the time for common courtesy. Break the fucking thing in!" Rosita hollered. With a couple of swift kicks, Tara had the door banging against the wall inside. No sign of Carol.

"M-maybe she went for more food or water, or…"

"While the man she loves is outside the walls? Bet you six boxes of ammo she's jumped the wall," Rosita murmured, crossing her arms across her chest with a defiant smirk on her face.

"She wouldn't," Tara scoffed.

"Wouldn't she?"

"Fuck," Tara groaned. "Come on. Let's check it out."

...

The air was thick, and it felt like the trees were closing in on him. He leaned against a sturdy old pine tree, panting as sweat beaded down his forehead. He wiped it away as it began to sting his eyes. He could feel the rumble deep in the ground as more grenades went off.

A branch snapped somewhere nearby, and he drew his bow up, pivoting around slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a threat. He heard another snap of a twig, then silence. He narrowed his eyes, looking sharply from left to right. Bending down, he grasped a small stone, tossing it off to the right, sending it smacking loudly into a rock pile. Nothing. Whoever was out there was human.

He took another look around before ducking behind the tree, veering off toward the tree line, making a break for open spaces. He felt his heart hammer against his chest as a walker stepped out in his path, snarling, gnashing its teeth as he strung his bow and shot a bolt straight through the center of its head.

Panting, he retrieved the bolt, wiped the muck onto the grass and re-strung it, just as the rustle of leaves behind him had him twisting around, aiming the weapon just in time to see a figure appear, hunched slightly, hands in the air, a surrendering pose.

"Don't shoot." Daryl narrowed his eyes as the figure straightened. He was tall, thin and looked like hadn't had a good meal in days.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Think I asked you first."

"Look, I have no weapons, so you don't have to point that thing at me."

"The hell you doin' out here with no weapons?"

"I had weapons. Believe me, I had them, but I used the rest of my ammunition about a mile back."

"You saw the herd?"

"Herd? No. What herd?"

"You from The Hilltop?"

"You're not," the man said, narrowing his eyes a little.

"No. I ain't." Daryl lowered his crossbow before slinging it over his shoulder. He took a step forward, and the man took a step back. "Morgan sent me out here. Got the biggest goddamned herd I ever seen on the other side of the city. Must be a thousand of them sumbitches."

"Christ," the man murmured, swallowing hard as a ghostly white pallor filled his face. "He sent you? Why?"

"I'm a good shot," Daryl said with a shrug. "But I volunteered. Owed it to him. Saved my life." Daryl scuffed his boot against a tree root.

"He's a good man. He's been through more pain than he deserves," the man replied. He brushed his dirty hand on his pant leg. "I'm Aaron."

"Daryl," Daryl replied. "Where you going, Aaron?"

"Home. I was…I was going home."

"Well, if I don't get 'round to that other side, you might not have a home to get home to." He saw the fear in the man's face growing tenfold as the moments ticked away. Another snap of a tree branch. "You comin'?" Aaron nodded, swallowing hard.

"You know how to use a gun, huh?"

"Yeah. I know how to use a gun," Aaron replied. "I'm a scout. I spend a lot of time in these woods, making sure there aren't any outside threats." He scoffed. "Maybe it's time I got myself a new job, huh?" Daryl smirked at that.

"C'mon. We're wastin' time, and I got somebody to get back to."

"So do I," Aaron replied, reaching out as Daryl handed him a small pistol. Daryl nodded then, deciding that if he was going to make it out of these woods, he was just going to have to trust that this man was telling the truth. Trust was a hard thing to come by in the outside world. So he was just going to have to bite back every doubt and hesitation and hope his efforts would pay off in the end and get him back to her.

...

They moved quickly, making a wide circle, as Morgan had instructed Daryl to do, arcing around toward the back of the herd. They were silent, moving and only communicating in hushed whispers as they began to come in contact with stragglers toward the back.

"Roamer," Aaron hissed out, as Daryl ducked low. The walker fell on him, and he flipped it over, slamming it against the ground, burying his knife in its skull. Aaron sucked in a few gasping breaths at the sight, and Daryl quickly pulled his knife out, cleaning it against the dry grass. "Good kill."

"Ain't nothin' good about it," Daryl muttered.

"No, I was just saying that—"

"You good with a grenade?"

"I've never used one."

"You know how?"

"I know how," Aaron said quietly. Daryl nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out one of the three that Morgan had given him.

"Use it wisely," he muttered. Aaron nodded, taking the weapon and stuffing it into his pockets.

"Must be someone pretty special you're trying to get back to," Aaron said softly. Daryl said nothing as they continued walking on. "My Eric—" Daryl stopped in his tracks, holding up his hand before motioning forward. Just as they stepped up the hill a ways, the back flank of the herd came into view. "Jesus. Oh my God."

"You ready for this shit?"

"Do I have a choice?" Aaron asked with a nervous chuckle.

"You pull the clip, toss it and run like hell. Got it? You got this?"

"I…I…"

"Christ, hand over the grenade if you ain't ready."

"I'm ready. I just need a second to breathe. To think."

"Ain't got no time for that. There'll be plenty a'time when we get back behind the walls." Aaron took a deep breath before gripping the grenade firmly in his hand. "You go first. We run twenty, maybe thirty yards. I'll set off another. Then another. We ought to be at the gate then."

"With a hundred roamers on our heels." Aaron grabbed Daryl's arm, and Daryl flinched. "I have a better idea." He pulled Daryl back, ducking away and out of sight from the mass of walkers trudging toward The Hilltop.

...

Daryl cringed as Aaron took a hand full of wet, brown muck to his shirt and pants, rubbing big splotches of gristly tissue, blood and flesh over Daryl's clothes and then his own.

"You think this is gonna work?"

"I've used this method a time or two myself out there," Aaron offered, hacking into the walker's belly with a small switchblade. Daryl choked back the urge to vomit as the acrid smell of decay filled his nostrils. He could almost taste it, bitter and rotten against his tongue. He held his breath, and Aaron shook his head.

"Trust me, you don't want to do that. It just makes it worse." Daryl let out a slow breath, breathing back in through his mouth. "That's the spirit."

"My turn," Aaron offered. Daryl shuddered as he dipped his hands into the walker's belly, feeling the jagged edges of broken ribs brush his fingertips. He cringed at the squelching sound of air bubbling up through the dead blood. He began to mimic Aaron's movements, lathering up his clothes with the muddy brown muck.

"God, Eric's not going to touch me until I take four showers," he cringed.

"Did ya leave 'im pissed off and glarin' daggers at ya when ya left?"

"No," Aaron said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"Then consider yourself lucky. Yer in a better boat than me."

"What'd you do?" Aaron asked with a chuckle.

"Told her to stay behind. She wanted to come with me."

"Yeah, that was stupid," Aaron snorted. Daryl glared at him before yanking out a long strand of intestine, cutting it in pieces and stringing a long strand over Aaron's shoulders. Aaron's face was a sickly yellow color now, and Daryl stood, wiping his hands on his pants.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No," Aaron choked out. "But I don't have a choice, do I?"

...

"What's going on?" Morgan asked, as Tara and Rosita rushed him across town.

"The ladder. Did you leave the ladder up?" Tara asked.

"What?"

"After you let Daryl over? Did you leave the ladder up?!"

"What're you talking about?" Morgan barked. "Of course not!"

"Well, someone did!" Rosita yelled, rounding the corner and starting toward the back wall. It was then that Morgan saw the old, rusted ladder leaning against the wall.

"Jesus," he grunted, feet pounding the earth as he rushed up to the wall. "I put it down. I always put the ladder down. Someone must have…someone must have put it up to…" He panted, mind racing as he climbed up the ladder, gripping the top of the wall and hoisting himself up. "Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus." He wiped at his brow.

"Morgan?!" Rosita called.

"She followed him," he murmured. "Oh, Jesus. She followed him." He slumped at the wall, and Tara began to climb, pulling herself up next to him on the wide rungs.

"What is it?" she asked, panting as she lifted up to peer over the wall.

"Carol's pack," he murmured. "And her crossbow."

"Oh God," Tara whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. "They got her."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Morgan crouched in the tall grass, hoisting Carol's pack and her crossbow over his shoulder. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand as the raw stench of rotting flesh overpowered his senses. It had been more than a couple of hours since he'd left Daryl at that gate. There was no sign of Carol being bitten. In all likelihood, if she'd been taken, it had been by the Governor, and if that was the case, Morgan couldn't guarantee that Daryl wouldn't go murderous with rage when he found out.

"What do you see?" Rosita hissed over the wall as Tara edged up next to her, keeping an eye on their leader as he poked through the weeds and plants.

"She was here," he murmured. "Started off toward the woods here, it looks like. Tracking Daryl." He made a motion toward the trees. He started toward the tree line.

"Maybe you should wait," Tara urged. He held his hand up to quiet her, and Rosita nudged her. The low sound of roamers snarling sounded from the tree line, and Morgan got his knife out, poised and ready. Tara and Rosita grabbed their guns, aiming them for backup, and just as Morgan was readying to attack, someone burst through the tree line, running like mad. No. Not someone. Carol.

"Run!" she screamed. Morgan took off after her, nearly smacking right into her when she turned straight around, knife raised above her head. "Got out of the way!" Her eyes were feral, face smudged with dirt, hands blooded and bruised, and he wasn't about to start asking questions now.

He got out of her way just as three walkers came at her. He took down the one in front of him, while she took down the other two with two quick, effortless thrusts of the blade between their eyes. As the last walker went down, Carol fell with it, and Morgan quickly worked to pull the corpse off of her. She was panting, almost breathless, and Morgan helped her to her feet.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, as she blinked a few times, taking a few slow, deep breaths to gain her composure.

"I was…following Daryl," she murmured. "Well, I was about to. And then four walkers were coming at me. It was too much. I dropped my bow. Couldn't reach it. My pack. I had my knife, but I needed to get them separated, get some distance between them. So I took off." She pointed in the direction she'd come from. "I thought Daryl would hear, but he was already too far away. I didn't scream. I knew that would just bring more." She doubled over, hands on her knees as Tara and Rosita climbed down to stand with her.

"Daryl doesn't know?" Tara asked. Carol shook her head.

"Well, that might be a blessing. I don't really want to have him on my bad side for losing track of you," Rosita said with a little smirk. Carol shook her head again, and she stood up straight. "I put them down in the woods, fell a few times, and then these guys started coming after me, so I led them away." She groaned. "I cut myself up pretty bad."

"They _are_ cuts, right? Not bites?" Tara asked, taking Carol's hands in her own, gently turning them from side to side.

"Yeah," Carol said with a nod. "I'm ok. Daryl?"

"Not back yet," Morgan murmured. Carol swallowed hard, biting back the urge to panic. She knew Daryl. She knew he'd be back. She also knew he'd be pissed when he found out she got hurt trying to follow him.

"Come on," Rosita urged, "let's get you in to see Milton." Carol gave her a little nod, just as an explosion outside had the small group scrambling toward the ladder. Morgan sent Carol up first, then Tara and then Rosita. As he climbed over and got his feet on the opposite ladder, he pulled the second ladder up over the wall, putting it down in the grass before climbing down and laying the other ladder down. The women were already halfway across the walled Hilltop before he started out after them. Another explosion. Then another. The three grenades, Morgan realized.

Within moments, gunshots were heard from the watchtowers, as shouts were heard to open the gates. Carol rushed toward the gate, heart racing in her chest as walkers fell left and right. She felt somebody hold her back as a walker started through but was brought to its knees when a bullet clipped through the side of its head, blowing bone and brain matter all over the grass.

"Stay back. Stay back!" Morgan urged against her ear, keeping her close as she fought, seeing nothing through swarm of walkers and the flying blood and tissues that clouded the air in a fine, red mist. And then, through the mist, two men came running through, weapons in hand as the walkers stretched their arms out, reaching for them. The gates groaned and squeaked as they shut, and snipers began to pick off more walkers outside the gate.

Daryl clutched his side then, eyes meeting with hers briefly, widening in recognition. Carol froze then, stomach turning at the sight of him covered in blood, his hair matted to his forehead, damp with sweat and blood.

"Daryl!" Carol cried out, running to him. But Morgan caught her again, as Daryl crumpled to his knees. "Is he ok? Is he ok?!" Morgan nodded to Tara and Rosita, who came to Carol to stand with her, as Morgan knelt next to Daryl.

"Is he bit, Aaron?" Morgan asked, as Daryl slumped over, unconscious.

"No. They didn't get close enough," Aaron panted. "He couldn't be. I think it's exhaustion."

"Are you alright?" Rosita asked, as another man jumped down from the top run of one of the watch tower ladders.

"Oh God, Aaron!" he cried out, wanting to go in for a hug but stopping just short to avoid being plastered with roamer guts. He took the man's hand. "Are you ok, babe?"

"I'm ok. I'm fine, Eric. I told you I would be. I always come back, don't I?" He squeezed Eric's hand, and Morgan groaned, trying to lift Daryl.

"Let's get him to Mamet," Morgan offered. "And she needs to be looked at, too." He nodded toward Carol. Morgan stood, and together, he and Aaron hoisted Daryl up and began leading him across town. "Kill every last one of those bastards!" he hollered to the snipers. "I don't want to see one more goddamned roamer standing when I come back. Use the archers. We've used enough ammo today." At his words, the archers began to string their bows again, and Carol fought the urge to vomit when everything started to spin.

"Come on," Tara encouraged. "Milton will get you patched up. And Dary'll be ok. You'll see." She wrapped her arm around Carol's shoulder, and Carol leaned against her, keeping her eyes focused on Daryl and willing with every part of her being that he really would be alright.


End file.
